


LAST SUMMER IN VENICE

by vanhunks



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-27 03:14:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 31,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7601251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanhunks/pseuds/vanhunks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Primarily for those who have not yet read this story.<br/>The premise: Sometimes, even the strongest among us can give in to a moment of infidelity. Janeway and Chakotay are lovers on the point of validating their relationship with marriage. Then Seven of Nine, in love with Chakotay, comes between them. A story of heartbreak and of triumph.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns Janeway and Chakotay
> 
> AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story was written for the Secret Summer Shower 2006 on the VAMB board, and my recipient was Kate04.
> 
> ACKNOWLEDGEMENT: Mary Stark, once again, for her time and patience in betareading this story.

* * *

PROLOGUE

Standing at the door of Captain Janeway's quarters, Seven of Nine drew in a deep breath. She suppressed a mild feeling of trepidation as her hand reached for the chime. The captain had cloistered herself in her cabin for the last forty eight hours. During that time, Chakotay had assumed bridge duty; anyone wishing to speak with the captain had to come to her quarters.

It was inevitable, even understandable under the circumstances, that Chakotay's news had unsettled the captain. He had insisted on seeing Captain Janeway first to tell her what had happened and then inform her of his new plans, plans which had changed dramatically in the last week and which had led to the captain's seclusion in her cabin. If the crew noticed a shift in Janeway's equilibrium, they ascribed it to the anticipation of seeing Earth again.

In a few days, they would be home and their proposed arrangements could be set into motion. Seven had allowed Chakotay to take the lead since her own experiences were too new, and the social protocols appropriate for this particular situation as yet too exact for her. She had had no idea what to do except to tell Chakotay. And Chakotay, ever the warrior, had closed his heart and his love for Janeway that had  lain close to the surface, quietly suppressed it to make way for the new and totally unexpected dimension that had come into his life.

Sighing, Seven pressed the chime, hesitating a few moments after she heard the captain's command to enter. Captain Janeway's voice sounded firm, controlled as always, with not a hint of distress in it.

Yes, Seven conceded, no sign perhaps that the captain's world had tilted with sudden force, like the ominous rumbling underneath the earth sounding the coming quake, or the ocean grumbling deep in its depths only to destroy everything in its path minutes later. Not even the strongest would survive such an onslaught. One would die instantly buried under metres of rubble or lie like a bloated fish on a wasted shore.

If the man Seven of Nine loved had dealt her such an earth shattering blow, she knew that was how she would have felt. She wanted it differently, but Chakotay wanted to stand by her side.

The doors slid open with a silence that underscored what she sensed to be the mood inside. Her eyes connected instantly with the woman who stood barely metres away from her, as if her stance blocked any further progress. Precisely as if Captain Janeway had, through her body language established new ground rules for Seven of Nine and Chakotay. It was as palpable a barrier she had ever seen anyone erect, this physical demonstration of emotional detachment and message - breach my defenses this far and no farther.

Yet Seven of Nine, with an equally impassive intent, decided that she needed to impart her own feelings to the captain. She would never rest if she didn't at least try to make peace. Her kind of peace.

The captain didn't move from her position. Her hands were at her sides, fingers lightly brushing  against her thighs. No sign of a disturbance in her equilibrium. Squared shoulders, lips pressed together, though not forced, no light flush of her cheeks to indicate a deep emotion or evidence that her world had slipped away from her and left her without an anchor. Even so, Seven of Nine could sense the pain  - hidden, suppressed, yet there underneath all the control which in reality remained so normal that no one looking at the captain would notice her distress.

It was what Janeway did best.

It was what gave Seven of Nine courage.

"Is there anything I can do for you, Seven of Nine?" Janeway asked.

"No."

"Then I should remind you that Chakotay has already told me."

Could Chakotay have loved this woman? This impassive being standing before her speaking in such  calm tones? Could Janeway have loved Chakotay? Chakotay who had been so unbridled in his passion three weeks ago, Chakotay who had told her of his argument with Janeway, of her subsequent refusal to marry him, Chakotay who had been drinking when he came to her bed…

"I am carrying his child, yes." 

Seven's words were firm, defensive.

"I know, Seven. He intends to marry you."

"He was engaged to you, Captain.

"The situation has changed. I relieved him of his duty to me."  

Only then did the captain's eyes reveal her pain. A sliver, a small aperture that closed as quickly as it opened.

"Thank you, Captain."

"Then there is nothing to say, is there?"

"Captain, I…I love him. I did not think it ever possible that I could feel like this. But I love him."

"I understand. Chakotay wishes to do the honourable thing and marry the mother of his child.

There was a slight tremble in Janeway's voice when she spoke the last words. It was, with the pain that settled in her eyes again, the only other sign that Chakotay's betrayal of their love had turned her world upside down. But Chakotay had promised her, Annika Hansen, that he would stand by her and be the father who would be there to help raise their daughter. Captain Janeway took a step forward. Seven closed her eyes as a palm, light and caring, touched her cheek. A sigh followed as the hand dropped again.

For the second time since she entered the captain's quarters, Janeway looked unsettled, her lips quivering slightly.

"Now please, will you leave my quarters?"

The words were soft, hollow, a world of loneliness contained in them

Seven of Nine, outside the cabin once more, and hearing the doors slide as quietly closed again, contained her sympathy that had threatened to rise to the surface, covering it with a smile. Captain Janeway would survive like she had survived a thousand times during the last seven years.

Captain Janeway would take her pain and her disappointment and her sorrow and package them as neatly as she had stood there in her uniform and get on with her life again.

It was what Captain Janeway did best.

For her, Seven of Nine, life was just beginning with the man who promised to the honourable thing. He had assured her over and over that he wanted to be part of the process and wanted their child to have a mother and father who would remain a constant in her life.

Seven of Nine smiled victorious as she reached Chakotay's quarters.

She had her man.

 

*************** 

**end Prologue**


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

**FIFTEEN YEARS LATER**

"Leave me alone!" Chakotay barked, his voice hoarse and thready and angry. If he gave in to the next wave of pain and fever, he was going to sink into oblivion again. Like a band of warriors the pain engaged him and stripped every nerve in his body, an offensive which sought not to imprison him, but to humiliate, to kill. He wanted to die and wanted to do so without the interference of friend, family or foe.

With honour.

For him there was no honour in the road to his end.

His body was on fire; he was going crazy.

He tried to remember when he had begun to feel sick. The details were hazy, although he knew that he had been on a freight run to Diatorath. He had been in contact with many of their people. He had heard of the illness that had gripped the inhabitants of the first city, his first port of call. Later, was it a day or two days? He couldn't remember. He just knew that he had begun to feel sick. He had vomited several times, then every muscle in his body protesting as it ached, the headaches, the dizzy spells. He had put it down to working too hard, the stress of working eighteen hour days, with too little sleep in between.

He kept as far away from doctors. He had flu; it would pass. That was what he thought. Then he began to see strange images - grotesque, persistent, haunting. They were in his sleep, in his dreams, in his delirium. The virulent strain of the flu brought on the madness too. The madness of his forefathers.

He even thought he saw her…

Yes, he was crazy. He was convinced of that. He was going to his ignominious end like his grandfather before him. Like his grandfather, he rejected all aid, all signs for cures. He knew what was happening, yet, deep in his conscious he sensed the old Chakotay, the man of honour, of great valour, warrior gentle and warrior angry, with always the one thing that kept him going - memories of a bygone time. Another wave and his body convulsed, then contracted so that his legs, of their own volition, pulled up against his stomach. He cried out, long moans punctuated by the ugliness of his cursing.

"Go to hell! Leave me alone!"

Once he tried to open his eyes, a strategy to fool the enemy warriors of pain. They intensified their onslaught. His eyeballs became searing flames that burned from the outside, coursing behind his eyes to spread rapidly through his body. He had contracted a virus, the details, the memory of the illness as murky now as the shadows dancing before his eyes in the dark.

A voice. A voice breaking through the mist. A moment of unimagined joy. A familiar voice from his past. But the colour of it was not there, the humour entrenched in the tone, not there. The mellowed huskiness not there… Someone else. His joy died, and his body suffused with disappointment.

"Damn you!"

"You need help, Chakotay. Only a physician can offer you relief - "

"Go to hell! Let me die here…" he bit out as the wave of pain subsided and he could stretch his body full out on the bed again.

The covers had been thrown off eons ago. He was naked, he knew. His skin was sallow and damp. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he knew that the mattress was wet, that he was lying in his own urine. His rational thought wanted to deny the squalor into which he had sunk, but the senses - smell and touch - kept him firmly in the present where his nostrils itched from the dank, murky smell in the room. Once his hand reached towards his crotch, searched, found, stroked. He gave a groan. Even there the pain ravaged him, reducing his manhood to nothing but a shriveled organ.

He was nothing.

The voices came and went in his waking moments, in his moments of delirium, his demented state. Now, the voice of a woman. If he weren't ill and crazy, the voice would have soothed him. It had that quality, a soft, melodious timbre to it, but not _hers…._ Never _hers_ … Never. He gave another unbridled groan, a long keening moan of anger and need.

"Who are you?" he asked again.

"I am Sekaya. You know me."

His sister.

"Sekaya…what are you doing here?"

"Carina asked me to come. She's worried about you. I arrived from Dorvan yesterday."

"Dorvan? Damn Dorvan! Go away."

"Chakotay," Sekaya chided softly, "this is not like you, or the brother I remember."

  
"I'm crazy, that's what. Crazy like our grandfather. Leave me alone."

He tried to look at the owner of the voice, admitted with a sigh that the soft, cool sponge that washed   his raging body soothed the fever. The smell in the room was no longer so dank and pissy, though still there. Another wave of pain and again, his knees drawing up high almost to his chest. His hands gripped his knees, knuckles protruding as if they had broken through his skin. Did blood seep from his brow? When he felt her wiping his forehead, he gave a low cry of relief. His body shuddered once or twice before it stilled again, the warriors of his angst leaving him, if only temporarily. His legs straightened out slowly.

The bed was dry, he realized. Dry and comfortable. A thin sheet covered him this time. Before he hadn't cared how he looked, too crazed to care anyway. He refused food, sucked on a wet cloth, swore into the silence, tense, crude words. Sometimes he heard soft crying.

"Think about Carina, Chakotay. She is a very frightened, unsettled young girl who needs you to be there for her."

Chakotay's eyes opened, the upper lids forcing away from the lower lids. The room tilted, spun like a mad vortex, creating nausea in his stomach. He held his breath, then bit his lips until he tasted blood, until the nausea subsided.

_Be there for her…_

He knew those words like the damning of the evil spirits that had plagued him for years. He had spoken those words to his eternal joy once on a world so far away he couldn't see it in his mind's eye anymore.  He had spoken those words to his eternal damnation, this time every detail, every tiny scrape against the wall that he could see, every nerve that pulsed in the other person's face - all too clear for him.

"I said those words once, twice…long ago."

"And?" Sekaya asked, keeping up the cool soothing of his body.

But it seemed the demons - crazy, grotesque images - attacked him again, long tentacles reaching for him, sticking like leeches before they carried him to the unknown depths of darkness. His mouth opened and he screamed like a mad man, possessed of all the evil that wouldn't leave his body. When silence filled the room again, he focused, to see Sekaya, her eyes filling with tears.

"Do you know what joy is?" he asked, fixing his gaze on her, his hand clamping around hers, forcing the continuous washing of his body to stop.

"If you mean being happy, then yes, I know."

Beads of perspiration formed on his brow. He felt them because they seemed to roll off and into his eyes, causing them to burn. He blinked, felt the cloth wiping his eyes dry.

"I knew it once. Long ago."

"And now?"

"I have been robbed of it - "

Sekaya knew he hadn't been happy in the last years with Seven of Nine, and since her death three years ago, he had been like a haunted man. Haunted and angry and driven. Not even Carina could still the savage beast in him. But Carina was alive and Carina needed him.

"Carina?"

"Carina reminds me of her."

"Seven of Nine."

"Leave me alone!" Chakotay wailed again, thrashing and flinging his sister's hand away from him. "Go! I'm crazy, can't you see?"

"The doctor…" Sekaya persisted, "I must send for one - "

"You do that and I swear by the spirits I'll get up here and squeeze the life out of you…"

"Chakotay…"

"Didn't you hear me? Get the hell away from me!"

"Carina needs you!" Sekaya retorted with sudden fire.

"Carina…"

"Yes, my brother. You're leaving her to fend for herself and tend to you. She doesn't deserve - "

"Carina reminds me of her mother!"

A silhouetted figure, silent, brooding, stood in the entrance to the room. The shoulders slumped; dejected, she turned away again. Sekaya had seen Carina standing there, only to slink away as she heard Chakotay's words.

"That's not fair, Chakotay, and you know it. You're alienating your own daughter. You must fight this, my brother, or you will lose her too."

Chakotay lifted his head from the pillow and stared at his sister. He had seen Carina, her figure shadowy with the light behind her. He tasted something bitter in his mouth. Sekaya was right. He had to think of Carina. But Carina… His nostrils felt like tunnels through which a gush of acid had been blown. His eyes became bleary. He knew his nose was running. Sighing, he closed his eyes as Sekaya wiped his face. He sagged back against the pillow. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand.

"It's summer now," he said quietly.

"It's always dry here on Polarya," she responded.

"On Earth."

"Are you reminded of something during summer? On Earth?"

Chakotay's eyes became wild again. His breathing stopped for a few seconds. When he could hold his breath no longer, he gasped, allowing the dry air to rush into his lungs. Then he lifted himself up, grabbed Sekaya by her shoulders and shook her. She fought him off and pushed him back. Flung against the pillows, he lay exhausted, but the fire was still in his eyes, his nostrils still flared.

"Leave me alone, Sekaya. Just go."

Sekaya remained, stroking his ravaged cheek. He slapped her hand away. Old memories assaulted him. Memories of summer on Earth. He wanted to kill the memories, but they kept coming, bright summer, sunshine, laughter in a face that was loved, golden hair that waved in the breeze.

Chakotay screamed. Loud, anguished, then hollow, empty, finally nothing as he slipped into the oblivion of darkness again.

******

After searching in the house and outside the immediate area, Sekaya eventually found Carina in a cave that hid a subterranean stream. A man who stood not far from Chakotay's abode simply pointed in the direction of the mountain. It was a long walk, but she wasn't tired. She needed the time to think about her brother, his descent into total degradation, the real possibility of him dying. He had not taken water for days, according to his daughter, and hadn't eaten for a week.

Sekaya had tried to mask her shock at seeing her brother, once a proud man - a proud, honourable warrior, healthy and strong. A strange 'flu virus, contracted during his last freight run had triggered the illness of their grandfather. There was a cure, but Chakotay refused to be treated. He had been treated once, years ago on Voyager. Now total negligence of his person, his health and well-being after the virus he had picked up during his visit to Diatorath two weeks ago had jump-started it once more. This time Chakotay was ill in body and in spirit. It didn't have to be that way, but since Seven of Nine's death he had been inconsolable.

Her brother was on self-destruct and he seemed to want it that way, not caring about anything, including his fourteen year old daughter who loved him and who missed her mother, missed having a mother. But mostly, a young daughter who missed having her father. Chakotay was Carina's life. If only he could be brought to realise that.

Carina, Sekaya knew, was nothing like her mother in personality and emotional disposition. Her only sin, if Chakotay's deranged reactions to seeing Carina every time could be believed, was that she resembled Annika Hansen. All the signs were there that Carina's youthful face would develop into the same aloof beauty of her mother one day. It was not right of Chakotay to hold it against his only child.

There was no response when Sekaya called out the young girl's name, but she knew Carina was there. Walking in further, she could hear the soft rush of the stream. When the roof of the cave became low, Sekaya crouch-walked before she could straighten up again. She found herself in a large cavern and at the furthest end she saw Carina sitting on a flat rock, her feet in the water. The light in the cavern was given off by two torches, one of them quite close to where Carina was sitting.

"Carina…"

The young girl looked up. Sekaya felt her heart contract. A world of unhappiness lay exposed in the girl's features. Sekaya sat down next to her and placed her hand around Carina's shoulder in a comforting embrace. Carina offered no resistance as she lay her head against the older woman's bosom.

"Your father is very ill, Carina. He doesn't mean the things he said…"

Carina started sobbing quietly.

"He hates me, Aunt Sekaya."

"No, sweetheart. He doesn't hate you but I sense a deep unhappiness in him. A very deep unhappiness. When your mother died - "

"It's not my mother, Aunt Sekaya. It's not because of her. He - he…" 

The sobbing that had subsided once Sekaya had stroked Carina's cheek gently, started again and she clung desperately to the older woman. Sekaya waited until Carina had calmed again.

"What is it, Carina? What about your mother?"

A long sigh escaped Carina before she looked directly in Sekaya's eyes. Again Sekaya was struck by Carina's resemblance to Seven of Nine.

"My father did not love my mother!"

"I'm sure you don't mean that, honey - "

"It's true. I have eyes to see!" Carina said with sudden force. "He never loved her. I think he - he…punished her."

"For what, Carina? Why would he punish the mother of his beautiful little girl?" Sekaya asked, smiling gently as she placed her palm against the unhappy girl's cheek again.

"Because my mother didn't love me…" came the soft admission, an admission that didn't shock Sekaya.

Seven of Nine, or Annika as she desired to be called when they lived on Dorvan, had been too impassive, too aloof and unloved herself to shower her daughter with unconditional love. Sometimes it seemed to them that she was incapable of loving Carina as she deserved.

And Carina had a frame of reference. She saw how her young cousins loved their mother and father, how open and honest Sekaya's relationship was with her own children. They were happy and Carina yearned for that like any young child would yearn if they sensed that they were withheld something precious.  Many times she allowed Carina to spend the night or the weekend them. Carina was so eager, so unspoilt, so ready to be loved.

Sekaya gave a soft sigh. When her brother and his family lived on Dorvan, they had become aware of the strained relations between husband and wife. They never talked about it, but people noticed. Yet Chakotay had always cared, tried to love Seven as the mother of his daughter and he gave to them in full measure everything of himself. It was the way he was - an honourable man.

But it wore him down and for Carina it was not enough. And when they thought that Annika's death brought some relief, it had done the opposite. Chakotay became a man possessed of something deep, darkly hidden, something about which he kept a brooding silence.

"Aunt Sekaya," Carina asked, "do you think my father could have loved someone else? Before he met my mother?"

Sekaya thought of Svetlana, of Seska and a few other women Chakotay had known before he vanished into the Badlands. She had often berated her brother for using those women, for basing his relationships with them on lust. She had heard that he had been engaged to the Captain of Voyager, but that had been mainly gossip. They had never made their feelings public, never announced their engagement, had never, according to B'Elanna Torres, worn rings to validate their relationship. The crew had  all been surprised when Chakotay and Seven of Nine announced that they would marry and that Seven was pregnant. Sekaya wasn't certain how deeply Chakotay felt for Voyager's former captain who was now Admiral Kathryn Janeway-Greaves, married to Horatio Greaves, another admiral in Starfleet. She shook her head, as baffled as Carina was about Chakotay's personal life on Voyager.

"I don't know, Carina," Sekaya said finally. "There was talk that he had been engaged once before. But that was a long time ago."

Carina looked at her rather strangely, a frown marring her smooth forehead.

"He never talks of her."

"Who?"

"The captain of Voyager."

"They were good friends who lost touch, that's all." There was a pause. Carina didn't look too convinced. In any case, thoughts of a very sick man were now uppermost in Sekaya's mind. "Look, Carina, could we go home? We need to talk about getting your father off this planet and back to Dorvan or better still, Earth - "

"Earth?" 

Carina's face lit up with such anticipation that Sekaya felt again the constriction in her bosom. Didn't they ever take the child anywhere?

"Perhaps. A doctor, Voyager's EMH, treated your father before. I know very little, I must confess. We should contact him. Right now your father is too headstrong to accept aid from our own physicians here."

The joy left the young face, replaced by gloom again.

"We cannot do so without my father's permission, Aunt Sekaya. No matter how ill and how - how much he - he hates me…"

"I know, sweetheart, but sometimes we need to take matters in our own hands."

Carina burst into tears again. Once more Sekaya pulled her close and offered comfort. They remained like that until she became calm again. Eventually they got up and slowly made their way out of the cave. It was impossible to lift Carina's spirits. She was still so young, too young to be burdened with taking charge of a man who should have taken charge of his own life. For a moment Sekaya felt a bitterness rise in her. It disappeared again the moment she admitted that Chakotay was a very sick man who needed intervention, even if it meant he would kill them both.

Somehow they had to coax him to agree to get help. How that was going to happen, Sekaya had no clue. Chakotay was becoming more and more deranged.

Sekaya suspected he was driven by another force, something that neither she nor Carina knew anything about.

 

*************************


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

Carina sat on the edge of the bed, watching her father breathe evenly as he lay asleep. Soon after she and her aunt returned from the caves, he had gone into a spastic rage again and it had taken all her resolve and courage to quieten him. He had raged at them, shouted abuse, cursed, flung her away from him so hard that she fell against the floor.

"Papa!" 

Her father had looked at her with bemused, dazed eyes, the extreme wildness temporarily abated. Finally, he had relented, holding out his arms to her in a pleading gesture. Once again, tricked by how repentant he looked, she had thrown herself in his arms. Then there had been quiet for about half an hour before he began to rage again.

She had refused to give up or give in to tears. Her aunt had done all she could even after she too had been pushed away. Together they helped calm him. Her aunt had produced a hypospray and before her father could react, she had administered the sedative.

Aunt Sekaya had given a great big sigh and stepped away from the bed, smiling at Carina's surprise.

"I took it from the med-kit in the bathroom. I'm going to lie down for a while, Carina. He'll be alright for the next twelve hours. You should rest too. Then we can talk about moving your dad, okay?"

She had nodded mutely and watched in silence as her aunt left the room. Then she began her lonely vigil again. She loved her father, loved him to distraction. He would heal someday and then he would look at her once more with love in his eyes. She so much wanted him to love her. Carina knew her physical appearance didn't help. She looked like Annika Hansen, had grown taller in the last year. Why couldn't her father forgive her for looking like her mother? The questions had confounded her since she was old enough to sense something wasn't right between her parents. In her heart of hearts she knew that her father loved her, if only he could see her and not her mother.

From time to time she wiped her father's brow, her fingers lingering over the tattoo. It was a tattoo her cousins also wore. She loved her cousins, especially Tomaso who was fifteen and wanted to attend Starfleet Academy.

Sighing, Carina remembered how her mother forbade her to talk about the Academy, and so she had suppressed all hope of one day being a Starfleet cadet. It had confused her then, and it had been the reason she hadn't spoken to her father of her dreams. Her mother had been clever, but as an ex-Borg. Carina understood that much of her mother's brilliance was not so much what she was born with, but what she had assimilated during her years as a Borg drone.

Her father had looked at her one day after she returned from school and looked at the PADD containing her assignments. It was a strange look, so strange that it had made her uncomfortable. It was just before her mother died. Annika Hansen had been on a mission to the Anakrapos System. It had been the first time she could relax in the company of her father. Yet that day while he studied her science assignment, it was different.

"You remind me of her…" he had said, very enigmatically.

"You always tell me I remind you of Mama…" she had told him, smiling tentatively, hoping it would break his own cheerless expression, feeling wretched inside because he had always looked so unhappy when he told her she reminded him of her mother.

"No, not Mama, Carina."

"Then who, Papa?"

Then the look had lingered until he turned away from her, staring out the window for what seemed to her like ages. Always when he had done that, he looked so far away. She had known then that it would be futile to break into his reverie and demand answers. In any case, she had always accepted that her father's thoughts were private, not to be breached. But on those days when he stared into the distance, his mind and heart far away, he had looked unhappy.

Now her father lay asleep. It didn't fool her. He would fly into a rage again when he woke up and she knew how dangerous it could be to keep him continuously sedated. It wasn't going to heal him anyway.

When Chakotay began moving his head from side to side in restless agitation, it brought her back to the present. His mouth moved and instantly she had a sponge ready and held it to his parched lips. He sucked thirstily before pushing her hand away again, the agitated movement continuing.

" _Kathryn_ …" he whispered in his troubled slumber. " _Kathryn_ …"

Carina frowned. She had never ever heard her father mention such a name before. It was new, strange to her. She knew that a Kathryn Janeway had been the captain of the starship Voyager. Her mother, though, had always discouraged her from studying Voyager's data and logs. She hadn't bothered further because her mother had become  sullen and unfriendly and non-communicative for days afterwards.

Chakotay murmured again, "Kathryn…" before he became still again.

She should ask her aunt about it, Carina thought. But how much did Aunt Sekaya know?

Who was this Kathryn? Why did her father murmur her name as if it were the most treasured name in the universe? She had never heard such a tone from him before. The name fell from his lips like a caress, like one would speak to a beloved.

Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to involve her aunt after all. Carina had no idea how much or how little her aunt knew. If she admitted it to herself, she didn't want to be disappointed. Her father murmured a name that to her young mind sounded as if he knew this person well, very well. She had always felt that there was no love between her parents and her father's behaviour, especially the last few years, had always struck her as odd. Gazing out the window, so far away in his thoughts that she didn't want to call him for dinner, or disturb him when she had homework.

Since her mother died, there were no pictures displayed of her in their home, even though her father had encouraged her to have pictures of Annika Hansen in her own bedroom. She didn't blame her father. Not really. The times he had come into her room to kiss her goodnight, he always seemed to avoid the framed photograph she kept of her mother. Annika Hansen, aloof, beautiful, the cortical implants enhancing her aloofness. She missed her mother sometimes, but even that memory began to fade because there was nothing to stimulate or trigger memories of her mother as a loving being, one who tucked her in at night, one who listened to her stories of school or excursions. And her father didn't do any better in keeping memories of her mother alive for her.

The name 'Kathryn' had fallen from his lips like a lost treasure, she thought. Yes, exactly as if he had lost something very precious to him.

A sudden thought struck her. When she had been about eight or nine years old… No, she decided, it was soon after her eighth birthday when her father had returned from vacation. Every year he always went alone somewhere, never telling them where he was although with hindsight, she realised that her mother must have known. They always argued when he returned.

She had hidden herself in the wardrobe of her parents' bedroom, playing hide and seek with her cousins. It was a perfect hiding place because she knew they would never come looking for her there.  In the darkness she pressed against an object. That was when she had noticed the wooden box. Her eyes had begun to adjust to the darkness and it appeared like a mysterious shadow. Intrigued by the encrypted lock, she had lifted the box and placed it on her lap, trying, young as she had been then, to decrypt the lock. Maybe it had been that the door of the cupboard hadn't been closed completely, but a sliver of light that seeped through helped her to see what she was fiddling with.

Carina had heard footsteps and the next moment the door of the wardrobe was flung open. The whoosh of air that entered the cavity where she had been sitting cross-legged made her realise that she could have smothered inside the cupboard. She remembered how hard her heart had pounded. It was her father who had found her after Tomaso and Nina had alerted her parents that they couldn't find her anywhere.

And Chakotay had been beyond angry. His eyes were ablaze, his lips compressed as he had stared at her for several minutes without saying a word. Up until that moment she had never seen her father angry and never ever had his anger been directed at her, at those times that she heard her parents argue. And for years she had wondered about that. It had teased her in the first months, but with the resilience of a young child, the incident had slipped from her memory, only to be recalled when she heard her father raise his voice. Then it came back, each time fuzzier than the previous occasion.

Carina closed her eyes at the memory of that day. It came back like a bright flash of lightning. Clearly, seeing herself sitting there in the wardrobe, her legs crossed with the wooden box on her lap. She had been puzzled by her father's anger, puzzled and afraid, not realising how close to danger she had been. Chakotay standing there as if he had wanted to strike her, his hands trembling in his anger, clenching into fists. He had not spoken a single word, but simply taken the box from her, placed it back in its niche, then pulled her out. She had looked on in silence as he closed the door of the cupboard and then pointed to where Tomaso and Nina were waiting for her. Never afterwards had she ventured to look inside his wardrobe again. The box had been forgotten.

Now it struck her with the force of a tornado as she realised after so many years, that his anger had not been because she could possibly have died in his wardrobe. It was because she had the box on her lap, about to try and force it open.

It was because of the box that he had been enraged.

Touching her father's cheek very gently, Carina leaned forward and kissed his brow.

"Kathryn…" he murmured again, his voice infinitely sad.

Carina felt her eyes prick with tears. She turned her head towards the wardrobe, wondering if the box was still there. That incident had happened on Dorvan. Here on Polarya…

Suddenly tired of thinking, Carina rose quietly from the bed and tiptoed to the cupboard, her heart racing with anticipation. She opened the door, bent low down and stuck her hand inside. She bit her lip to prevent herself from crying out when her hand made contact with something solid, smooth.

When she pulled the box carefully out, she stifled a gasp. It was polished wood, so dark and beautiful, and although she had no idea what kind of wood it was, her hand caressed the surface. A memory, sharp and distinct of her father holding the box, caressing the smooth, dark shiny wood just like she was doing now.

She turned to look at her father on the bed, giving a small sigh of relief that he didn't wake up. Knowing that he would be sleeping for several hours more, she picked up the box and quietly left Chakotay's room to make her way to her own bedroom. She sat down on her bed, her eyes stealing to the framed photograph of Annika Hansen. Her eyes pricked with tears as she touched her mother's face.

"I'm so sorry, Mama…but I believe this box contains all Daddy's happiness and it has to do with Voyager's captain…"

********* 

Carina stared at the photograph, had been staring at it for several minutes. Her fingers trembled as they held on to the gilt frame. A woman's face, full of laughter, joyous, beautiful, stared back at her. It was as if the woman's eyes met hers, that if she had been standing right there in front of Carina, she would have looked just like that. Her eyes smiled.

She had never before felt that eyes could smile, but it was in this woman. Eyes that mirrored her soul.

Was this what her father had seen, staring out his window into the distance? A memory of this face? It was a stranger's face to her. She was positive that she had never seen this woman, had never seen even pictures of her, had never bothered to try again after her own mother dressed her down about attempting to decrypt their codes on Voyager's files. This woman was to her a perfect stranger. Carina had been to several cities on other worlds, had walked among a throng of people and if this stranger had walked past, she would not have paused to stop, for there was no recognition.

A perfect stranger. The woman whose name her father murmured in his sleep, a woman of whom, Carina was now convinced, her father dreamed night after night. The face of a woman who now troubled her father's sleep, who was the source - the beginning and the end, if there ever was to be an end - of her father's descent into madness. A woman who joined all the other demons of his dark, dark world and who refused to leave.

It was only a picture. A picture of Kathryn Janeway who was the captain of the legendary starship Voyager. What few stories she knew about Voyager and its crew and their exploits had been told her by Tomaso. Tomaso who had the privilege to gain insight into the world of a ship lost in the Delta Quadrant, traveling for seven long years to find its way home under the leadership of Captain Janeway and…her father.

A stranger's face.

Yet, mysteriously as only the deeply mysterious could be, Carina experienced the oddest sensation. It felt to her as if she knew this woman whose face smiled back. She looked at Kathryn Janeway through the sheen of tears that had never stopped forming in her eyes.

"I know her…" she murmured softly, even as her rational mind told her that it couldn't be. Her young heart warmed instantaneously, subconsciously to the smiling face in the picture. She traced the outline of Kathryn's face, as if she could caress the smooth skin which she imagined, felt intuitively, must be created out of velvet softness.

Carina gave a little sniff as she tried to hold back her tears. Her heart had stopped its wild pounding and settled into a lower pulsating as she put the picture down. There were other items in the wooden box, but the framed picture had lain on top of everything. Now she lifted a chronometer, an ancient timepiece held on a gold chain. Another item, a rose - pale yellowish-orange - encased in glass was the next to be taken out.

Then her hands stilled. At the bottom was something she had seen perhaps only once or twice. Her father had introduced her to books and her favourite book of fairytales was bound in leather. She treasured that book and knew that she would never ever give it away, that if she had a daughter herself, one day, that child would inherit it. Very, very carefully Carina lifted the leather-bound book out of the box.

On the cover, embossed in gold letters was the name 'Kathryn Janeway'.

Clutching the book to her bosom, Carina replaced the other objects in the box, closed it and then settled on her bed, sitting cross-legged as she always liked to sit and opened the book. She gasped.

On the first page there was a photograph of her father who smiled. He smiled! She had not seen her father smile much and she had never heard him laugh. His face was open, so clear, and his hair was cropped like she remembered, not the long, straggly locks he had now.

Beneath the picture were the words, " _A journal of summer_ ".

Eager to read what it contained, for she believed implicitly that reading the journal would lead to her father's recovery and peace, Carina turned the page.

 

_My dearest Chakotay_

_I don't know if I should be happy or sad that you asked me not to enquire after your little daughter. I know, I know! But she'll be eight years old soon and I wish with all my heart that I could give her a little gift. Your wife will not approve, but I did get her something, you know! And no, it's a secret. Maybe one day. My heart remains heavy even as I listen  to your breathing. I can't shake it off, but I told myself that you took the trouble to come all the way to Earth, to beautiful Venice in summer and that more than makes up for everything right now._

_It's our seventh summer of stolen kisses in the moonlight. I cannot help what is between us, my love. But I'm guided and overwhelmed by your assurances that we claim this summer for ourselves. My conscience, as you know, tells me we should stop this, but my heart is tied in knots around yours and I cannot untie it, Chakotay. It's so hard that any thought of relieving you and freeing myself is too difficult to contemplate. When I lie in your arms and feel your kisses on me, all rational thought makes way for the answering of the heart to the matters of the heart._

_But I want to be happy, even if it's only for a week. It's wrong of us to deceive your wife and your daughter, but please, God, let me be happy just this one time in the year?_

_Today the blessed, healing sun joined us in our happiness. Venice has never looked more beautiful or more conspiratorial. I'm sure it winked at us! You laughed and I told you scientists sometimes take a leap of faith. I walked with you across the Piazza San Marco feeling I'm walking on air. The months of waiting for you are over and now I can enjoy the little period of grace. To be with the man I love._

_"What are you feeding the birds, my love?" you asked today._

_"Definitely not bread crumbs. They deserve the bounty of full meals!" I replied._

_You laughed and your laughter sounded like the bell in the Great Tower, pealing freely for all Venice to hear._

_I look at your sleeping figure, so relaxed in sleep, so without the toils and care of the world. And so I end this day, closing my journal, knowing that minutes from now your body will lie close to mine and I will hear your words once again, "Are you happy, my love?"_

 

By the time Carina had finished reading the first entry the tears were streaming down her face. She couldn't see the pages clearly anymore and when she put the book down and had brushed the wetness from her cheeks, she went to stand by her window.

She remembered how she'd read somewhere that some people were fortunate to have second chances, that they were even more fortunate to have experienced a first, great love. She knew now that Captain Kathryn Janeway was her father's first, great love and that her father had never stopped loving the woman who was missing from his life.

A germ of an idea formed in her head. She turned quickly to check if the journal was still lying on her bed. The absence of noise from her father's room was evidence that he was still asleep. Aunt Sekaya was also still resting. She hurried back to the bed and carefully picked up the journal again, her fingers lingering over the embossed letters of Kathryn Janeway's name.

"I must get in touch with Tomaso…" she said dreamily. "I know now how my father can be cured…"

********************************


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

Sekaya stared at the message with amazement, a smile forming on her lips. She should have known Carina would try something like this. She sat down on the edge of Chakotay's bed, a tear rolling down her cheek as she read the message again.

 

_Dear Aunt Sekaya_

_Please do not be alarmed. I know you’ll be worried and that I haven’t said goodbye to you. I thought you might want to hold me back from the path I’ve chosen, and that is to take my father to Earth. I love him, Aunt Sekaya and cannot bear to see him like this. Even though he lashes out at me at times, I know that I am not the object of all his misery. My mother did little to make him happy; I do not think she ever tried to make him happy or if  she could make him happy._

_I have taken our shuttle and will let you know when we arrive on Earth. You know my father is dead set against medical assistance, but this time the decision is not his to make. He might want to kill me for it. What I know is that his deliverance from all his ills is there, on Earth, in the person of Admiral Kathryn Greaves._

_Yes, I know now about her._

_Keep us in your thoughts, always._

_Carina._

_P.S: I hope you're not too angry that I've enlisted Tomaso's help._

No, she wasn't surprised at all that Carina had enlisted Tomaso's help. All the years they had lived on Dorvan, those two had been like brother and sister. Most of the time, Sekaya knew, because Carina had grown up as an only child with a father who tried to do his best by her and a mother too impassive to understand how a little girl needed a mother who was not only a mother but a counsellor, a friend, a buddy. Carina hungered for company, to be loved, to be accepted and in her own children, especially Tomaso, she had found it. In her own home, Carina had missed that, missed the connection with Annika, however inadequate that connection was; she missed it even more now.

Tomaso and Carina, always arguing, always fighting, always trying to outdo one another, always looking out for one another. Tomaso who was more protective of Carina than he was of  Nina and Remy, his younger sister and brother. Tomaso who once told her that Carina was nothing like her mother, but rather like someone else he knew.

"Who, Tomaso?" she had asked her firstborn son. He was only about nine or ten at the time and already destined for Starfleet Academy. It was all he dreamed of. He had looked at her with his dark eyes so like Chakotay's, eyes in which the eagerness always lay on the surface whenever he spoke of Starfleet and Voyager.

"Admiral Janeway. It's a pity Aunt Annika won't let Carina study Voyager's exploits, or learn of Captain Kathryn Janeway, Mama."

Sighing, Sekaya put the PADD down on the bed again. Annika had struggled with another woman's memory, always struggled, always felt she was second best in Chakotay's affections. That much was clear to her, Sekaya, living so close to her brother and sister-in-law. And after Annika's death, Chakotay had become a haunted, hunted man, driven by unknown demons. None of them knew what troubled him and Chakotay, always, always so private, never spoke of his sorrows, never shared his innermost tribulations with anyone. But she guessed that it had to do with Kathryn Janeway.

It was time to clean the house and lock it up, to arrange for someone to keep an eye on it. It was time she headed back to Dorvan. Carina had taken any decision she might have wanted to make herself out of her hands. There was nothing for her to do now, except wait for news of her brother's recovery.

Still, if Carina had romantic notions about her father and Kathryn Janeway… Carina who must have found out something if she was desperate enough to make a mercy dash to Earth. It worried her somewhat. She didn't want her niece to be disillusioned. She had been disappointed enough in her life. Admiral Janeway had married Admiral Horatio Greaves. Sekaya was certain that was what emphasized her brother's bitterness and regrets. He was now a free man. Admiral Janeway was happily married with a little girl of her own. That information had been told her one day privately by Tomaso. She wondered idly if Chakotay knew. Perhaps. It was why he was so driven. Janeway was lost to him forever.

By the time she left Polarya, her worry had increased ten-fold. She prayed that her young niece was not on a forlorn mission of hope where that was concerned.

*****

"He sleeping now, Carina," Tomaso said, his hand on her shoulder. She nodded, keeping her eyes on the viewscreen. She placed her hand over her cousin's, grateful that he was with her to help.

Tomaso took the co-pilot's seat, giving a click of the tongue as he looked back towards the bunk where her father lay sleeping peacefully now. Carina stole a glance at Tomaso and for the umpteenth time she was glad that she asked him to accompany her. Tomaso looked like her father, a lot like her father.

Thinking of her father brought on the heartache again. She touched her face, glad the swelling was now gone, but there was still a dark smudge under her eye where Chakotay's hard fist had made contact. She felt the tears coming on again and began to sob softly, her vision blurring as she looked at the stars.

"Next time, I'll make sure he can't surprise us, okay?" Tomaso assured.

"I - I'm glad you are with me," she sniffed, wiping away the tears. "Papa hates me, you know."

"Come on, Carina. Uncle is the best man in the universe. He's ill, for crying out loud. He can't help it. He will tell you how much he loves you, just you wait and see."

Tomaso's voice was gruff, barely concealing the tenderness she could hear in his voice. They had been practically raised together in the beginning. There had been times Aunt Sekaya dumped both of them in a tub of water and scrubbed them down after they had been playing all day in the sandy dunes five kilometres from their home. Those were the happiest days of her life.

"Deep down, I suppose, he must love me…" she said, unable to keep a resigned sigh from escaping.

"He does. We'll get him to Starfleet Medical and Voyager's EMH."

She looked back at the bunk again.

"How long will he be sedated this time?"

"No more than twelve hours, Carina. But when he wakes up, I'll be waiting for him," Tomaso said, his words sounding more like a threat than a promise.

"Thank you, Tomaso."

"You're welcome. Anything for the most beautiful cousin anyone could have."

Carina smiled wanly. She was tired; their journey was going to take a week travelling at maximum warp. She felt the dread lessen. It was good to have Tomaso with her.

It had been such a mission to co-ordinate her father's transport, from his bedroom via site-to-site transporter and then to get him settled in on the bunk. Chakotay still had some hours before he would wake and she had used the time to race towards Dorvan V. It wasn't far from her own homeworld, but by the time Tomaso had come on board, her father had woken up.

That was when the trouble started. Real, big trouble. Carina flinched again at the memory.

"What-where am I?" Chakotay had asked as he tried to lift his head from the pillow.

"Papa…"

Chakotay had frowned heavily when he saw them, then glanced around him.

"Carina? Tomaso…?"

Tomaso had been standing just behind her, but moved next to her when her father had spoken.

"Uncle Chakotay, you're in your shuttle. Carina and I…we're taking you to Earth…"

The words were hardly out of Tomaso's mouth when her father exploded. He screamed, a long keening scream that filled the shuttle with its wildness. Carina knew the demons had returned. It was as if mentioning Earth, mentioning his shuttle, the realisation that he had been brought to it without his knowledge unleashed those demons.

"Let me go! Go away!" he shouted at them. "Don’t come near me!"

Carina had promised herself she wouldn't be afraid of her father, that she would brave his displeasure. It had been so hard to look at him, too feel his eyes burn into hers, to feel his hatred. That was what she believed. That he hated her. At the back of her mind she sensed he didn't mean to feel that way or to express himself so foully to her. Looking at him brought back the fear and repressed her love for him. She pressed on, tried hard to bank the fear that he would strike her in his irrational, hate-filled state.

"Papa, you need help. Only on Earth will you get help. The doctor who was your physician on - on V-Voyager," she had started to stammer, her eyes filling with tears at the same time, "h-he will help you again and c-cure you."

"Damn you, Carina. Why did you do this? To torment me like your mother did?"

"Papa!"

"Uncle!"

Tomaso had shouted his outrage as she had cried hers at the unfairness of his accusation.

"Take me back. You are not taking me anywhere - "

"I love you, Papa. I only want to help you, to see you get better - "

"I told you, get away from me!"

The tears spilled from her eyes as she recalled how her father had actually managed to lift himself off the bunk and flew at her. She was certain he didn't mean to. She was certain he only wanted her out of the way where he couldn't see her, see her likeness to her mother that made him so mad. It wasn't fair. She had loved her mother even as she was perplexed by her mother's behaviour, even as memories of Annika had faded faster than she had wanted them to.

Chakotay had pulled himself up and staggered towards her, pushing her away. Carina was flung to the floor of the shuttle, reeling from the sting of his fist against her cheek. For a few moments she was dazed, shaking her head, tears spilling from her eyes from the heavy blow she received. By the time she got up, Tomaso had managed to fling her father back on the bunk.

"Uncle, if you strike Carina again, and I don't care if it's the demons in you and not you who did it, I will kill you."

"You? Go to hell. I'll beat you to a pulp!"

"Get this, Uncle Chakotay. I'm fifteen and still growing. I'm already taller than you and bigger and stronger. If you try anything, I'll beat you up, sick or not."

Then her father tried to wrestle free from Tomaso's vice grip, but his depleted strength, his sick body made him ineffectual against Tomaso's superior strength. When she knelt next to the bunk and took her father's hand in hers, he looked at her for a very long time. Then, only then, his eyes filled with recognition and remorse.

"Oh, spirits, Carina…" he croaked, his eyes bloodshot from unshed tears. "Forgive me…" His hand touched the darkening bruise on her cheek, wiped the tears that kept rolling down. "Forgive me…"

"It's alright, Papa," she sobbed. "But please, let me help you, okay? Please?"

Tomaso had prepared the sedative and seconds later her father sighed as his eyes closed, her hand still held in his. Later Tomaso tended to her, cursing angrily as he touched the dark bruise against her cheek very lightly.

"You'll be okay, Carina. Next time I'll be ready for him."

"Don't kill him…"

"I will if he threatens you again. He is irrational and will strike out again, Carina. I'm glad you asked me to accompany you…"

******

"Hey…"

"I'm okay now, Tomaso," Carina replied.

"Look, I'll take the conn. You need to rest. We'll take turns, okay?"

She rose from her seat and on an impulse hugged him. Tomaso gave a sheepish grin, then slapped the side of his face in such a comical gesture that she had to smile.

"Gee, I'm someone's favourite cousin at last," he exclaimed in a very feeble voice, emulating his own grandmother on his father's side.

"I won't tell Grandmamma you're making fun of her," she told him as she made her way to the rear of the shuttle.

Sighing, she looked at her sleeping father. She caressed his long hair, damp from the perspiration. Tomorrow she'd get Tomaso to help him into the small sonic shower that was housed in the tiny lower deck.

Although she was exhausted and had a slight headache from the blow Chakotay had accidentally given her, she didn't want to sleep yet. Her backpack was under the bunk and the leather-bound journal of Kathryn Janeway was inside it, wrapped with great care in a dark blue silken scarf that Grandmamma had given her as a gift on her eleventh birthday.

She had not read the rest of the entries and was going to savour each entry, taking time to reflect on it. Tomaso was busy and her father was asleep. There was nothing to do now except study or reading. She and Tomaso were both missing classes for a long period of time but they were both advanced students and would catch up anyway. Besides, she was in no hurry and her most pressing mission now was to get her father to Earth and familiar surroundings. She knew that he had lived on Dorvan until his fifteenth year and then left to become one of the youngest cadets at Starfleet Academy.

It was quiet in the shuttle and she lay on her side, propped on her elbow, the journal of Kathryn open at the second entry. She began to read, her eyes caressing each word, her fingers lightly brushing over the letters.

 

_My dearest…_

_I couldn't forget the way you looked at me the whole day. Did I sense a return to thoughts of home and your family? No, it couldn't be. Your eyes were warm with love and affection. Your thoughts were of me, of us._

_Today I so enjoyed the ride in the gondola. Wasn't it so wonderful that we have Federico every year to be our gondolier? He smiled so knowingly, yet always so respectful. Lovers on a tryst ride the gondolas, you once told me. I'm sure he knows ours is an illicit affair. Sometimes he has that look. But leave it to the Federicos of this world to be discreet. He's having a wonderful time, I'm sure._

_Your arm rested on my shoulder and we sat close together, not wanting the ride to end, or the moment to burst. We sail away, away, away from all our cares._

_"Where shall I take you today, signore?" asked Federico._

_It made me laugh the way you told him, "All four hundred bridges along the canalways of the city."_

_"But it will take hours!"_

_"We want hours. We'll stop by the Café Sylviano for lunch. Wait for us. After lunch I wish to show this beautiful lady something wondrous…"_

_Imagine my insane curiosity after those words! I tried to get it out of you, but you teased me mercilessly. Did I taste the warm, freshly baked bread? Did I taste the wonderful wine you insisted I try because you said it was pure heaven? Was I ever aware that filet of sole tasted like soft magic in my mouth? All I could do was stare at your beloved face and believe that all was well with the world._

_"Show me?" I asked when we boarded our gondola - the same one we've used for seven summers. And how did I know that?_

_Federico blustered furiously after that first year, remember? Because you had gone and carved our names on the wood aft of the starboard side? After that it became our gondola…_

_I'm writing with my hand still trembling. You showed me the replica of a fifteenth century cathedral - built after it had been destroyed in the Great Flood in 2170. Even as I am writing, I have tears in my eyes._

_How could I ever thank you or forget the experience?_

_"It's a special cathedral, sweetheart," you said._

_"And why is it special?" I asked as we disembarked just after the Ponte Del Regio and stepped practically into the anteroom of the cathedral. It was dark, with dim light thrown off the walls where illumination was only above each of the myriad of wall panels. I slipped my hand into yours, for my heart was pounding and my anticipation great and my curiosity intense as you escorted me across the floor to stop in front of a painting - a mural._

_My face. Looking directly at me. A face that looked as if butterflies and angels had just touched it. It looked precisely like a Renaissance painting. Later I couldn't see my face for the tears in my eyes. You pulled me closer to you and I felt your lips on my hair._

_"Who did this, Chakotay?"_

_"An artist I commissioned a year ago and who works like Tintoretto…"_

*****

Carina lay on her back clutching the journal to her bosom. Her eyes were closed but they burned with tears. It was not difficult to wonder why her father never spoke of this woman with hair like golden sparks, a voice with mellow tones, a skin like alabaster.

She thought of her mother whom she knew now could never reach the depths in her father in the way the words of love sprang from the pages of the journal. He loved Kathryn Janeway passionately; Kathryn loved him. Somehow, Seven of Nine came between them. Somehow, she, Carina, was the reason her father could never again find rest.

She didn't feel any rancour. Papa loved her, she was sure of that. In her own way, Annika Hansen, her mother, loved her too. But now, looking back, she could see how hard her mother had tried to make her father happy.

Sighing again, Carina shifted on her side, still holding the book against her, her eyes drooping as she thought of one of the things Kathryn Janeway wrote.

_"I shall always associate Venice with the happiest times of my life…"_

As Carina drifted into sleep, her last waking thought was that she would visit the cathedral where the mural was of Kathryn Janeway… It wasn't another artist who had been Tintoretto. It was her father who had done the mural. The evidence of it was in the box, something she knew was not there when Kathryn gave the box to her father, but was placed there afterwards. She was convinced of that…

****

Tomaso turned when he heard a soft thump of something falling on the floor. After putting the shuttle on autopilot, he got up and moved to the rear, noticing the book that had slipped from the sleeping Carina's grasp. He smiled. When they were children, he had often seen her like this, sleeping, the PADD still clutched in her hands or lying somewhere on the floor where it had fallen.

It was a beautiful, leather-bound book. Also on the floor was the soft dark blue scarf Grandmamma had given her. Very carefully he wrapped the book in the scarf and stuck it under the pillow.

He gazed long at his sleeping cousin. They had practically been raised together, and people were always struck by the difference in their appearance. He had always been told how he looked exactly like his uncle, with jet black hair, tanned skin, even sometimes displayed anger like Uncle Chakotay. Carina was the complete opposite. Very fair, with hair the colour of ripe corn and eyes blue as the sky. Her hair was very long, almost to her waist.

Sighing, he smoothed back her flaxen hair, strands of silk more likely, away from her face. Her cheeks were tear stained. He had never seen her cry much and it had unsettled him deeply when her father struck her, even if it happened accidentally. He brushed his finger lightly over her cheek, felt it was still damp. Did she weep again, but softly?

On an impulse, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead in a gentle caress. Carina was suffering from total exhaustion. He'd let her sleep until she woke naturally. She needed it more than he did. Taking the soft cover that had slipped away from her body, he tucked her in, smiling when he heard her give a contented sigh as she shifted.

Tomaso moved back to the conn and made himself comfortable in the deep chair. Once or twice he turned to look at the two sleeping people.

He didn't want to tell Carina that her father was regressing. The signs were there. It was imperative they reach Earth in record time.

 *************

TBC 


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

The last month had been a difficult one for Kathryn Janeway-Greaves. Four weeks passed and still it all seemed so unreal to her. The New Arlington Memorial Grounds looked particularly green, almost hurting her eyes as she stared into the distance, the sun reflecting the deep lush of the lawns. Her father had been laid to rest here as well as other members of her family and those of the Paris family.

Owen Paris and Horatio Greaves, her husband, had been buried here within days of one another, Owen Paris, who had died instantly, and Horatio, who couldn't hold on to life as he struggled to stay alive. Funny how some accidents happened on routine missions, she thought. A short trip to Athol, just outside Earth's solar system, to confer with its president and it was all over. She had rushed to Athol and despite the most advanced medical technology, Horatio's injuries had been too severe for him to pull through.

Kathryn shook her head again at the memory of Horatio dying, his last moments not for himself, but for her and Greer.

"I love you, Kathryn," he gasped near his end. "I've always loved you. I know and even accepted that you couldn't love me in the same way. But you have been so good - "

"Horatio, don't leave us…please…" she had pleaded, her fear of once again being left behind so close to the surface. "We have Greer, we have a good life…don't die…"

But Horatio had looked at her, his eyes weak, the light in them dimming, his chest gurgling ominously. He tried to shake his head, a movement so feeble that tears had sprung into her eyes. She held his hand in hers and when he had tried to lift his head, it had fallen back, the moment exhausting him. It was minutes later that he had spoken again.

"I'm so sorry, Kathryn. I can feel this world is no longer my home. Take good care of Greer for me…"

"She loves her daddy, Horatio…. I don't know if I can  - "

"She will understand, our Greer. She is smart like her mother. Ask her…" Horatio gasped, his breathing low, erratic, almost gone. "Ask her not to hate me too much…"

"Oh, God, Horatio! You have been our only constant. I know it hasn't been all good, but you were there for me when I needed you most."

"Sweet, sweetest Kathryn… You cannot know how you have fulfilled my life. But I am ready to go and so are you…" 

His words had startled her.

"Horatio? What - what do you mean?"

Horatio, so tall, almost too thin, thick browed, with his sunken cheeks. Those who saw him always assumed he was ill, but that was the way he looked. He was as healthy as a horse. Yet the kindness was in his deep-set dark grey eyes. He had loved her for a long time and six years ago, when she had made the decision to break with Chakotay altogether, he had asked her to marry him. She had asked him to wait, that she needed some time, some space. That time had come during that last summer in Venice, when it had all become too much for her - the lies, the deception, the personal betrayal, hurting a man's wife and daughter by just being in his life - everything became too much for her to bear. It had been a hard decision to make, but for her own sanity, her own preservation, she needed to do what was the right thing: to let Chakotay go.

She had been content with Horatio. They had a beautiful little girl who adored her father and who would be shattered by his passing. In the beginning she had thought that she would never be able to keep Chakotay out of her heart and mind. But Horatio's unflinching, unconditional love and devotion to her made the break with Chakotay easier to bear. Chakotay had remained constantly in her heart and mind, although there were times that she could forget.

In her own way she loved Horatio, for he was a good man who took her when he knew that her heart pined for Chakotay every minute of every hour. The first year had been the hardest, but she had given him the assurance that the moment they married, she would be his wife in the fullest sense.

Now, Horatio lay dying and he was telling her something.

"Kathryn, sweetheart… Don't think I was never aware of how you missed Chakotay, how you pined for him…"

"I was happy with you."

"And that is the greatest blessing I will take with me to another realm, sweet, loving Kathryn. To know that you never rejected me. But you are ready to go. Go to him, Kathryn, after I am gone. Go to your Chakotay and tell him of your undying love for him…"

Her eyes had filled with tears then. Even in the final throes of death, Horatio could still be so forgiving, so generous. Sobbing, she had rested her head against his chest. She had felt how his hand caressed her face one last time.

"I can't…I owe you so much…"

"Ask him, Kathryn, to take care of Greer, to be the father he was meant to be…to make you happy again…"

And while her tears had run freely down her cheeks and soaked into Horatio's hospital shirt, Horatio had given his last breath. Kathryn was only aware that he had died when there had hung a total silence in the small room. The guttural rumbling in his lungs had stopped and his hand had slowly slipped down her cheek, until it lay lifeless.

Brought to the present, Kathryn felt the dampness on her cheeks as she remembered Horatio's last words. He had been everything, so understanding, so stripped of every deceit, even knowing that her heart was never really his.

She knelt down, caressing the gravestone bearing simply the name Horatio Greaves and the date of his death. A few leaves had fallen and covered the stone, and she brushed them out of the way, exposing the engraved letters.

"I'm not ready, Horatio. Greer asks constantly for you. I can't go through another disappointment again. I've made my peace. I know, I know," she murmured tenderly, "I should let Chakotay know. But I need time. I miss you…I miss your kindness, you generosity of spirit, your love. But…"

Kathryn sighed deeply. It was no use. The memories of those summers with Chakotay had come rushing back and with them the longing, the constant thirst and hunger. Three years ago she had been informed of Seven of Nine's death. Just a terse note that Seven had died in a shuttle crash. Even then she couldn't bring herself to offer Chakotay commiserations. She had made her peace and the communiqué was just that: a communiqué. It brooked no further investigation or comment. She knew Chakotay had wanted to respect her marriage. Now that he was a free man, she was the one committed to another.

"Maybe it was better so, Horatio, that I didn't write him. I committed myself to our marriage and I wanted to honour that with my whole being."

She stood up slowly, remained there for a few more minutes to take in the sacred atmosphere. It was time she headed for Indiana and to her mother and Greer. Phoebe was also visiting with her brood. Phoebe figured they needed the company of a sister and aunt and cousins. Kathryn pressed her fingers to her lips, and bent down to touch the gravestone again.

"Goodbye, Horatio...goodbye…"

************** 

"You're a free woman now, Kathryn," Phoebe said, touching her arm with great gentleness.

They were standing in front of  the wide window keeping an eye on the children playing outside. Gretchen was in the kitchen baking cookies and no doubt Celine, Phoebe's eldest child, was with her grandmother helping her.

"You told me that a week after Horatio died," Kathryn said, a tired smile forming.

Phoebe glanced sharply at her. "And I'll say it again," she responded.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Kathryn knew what Phoebe would say; perhaps it was a sublimated desire to hear it from her sister, her mother, B'Elanna and Tom who were their closest friends and allies.

"We know, you know?"

"What, Phoebe? That my husband loved me with all his heart?"

"And that you didn't love him as you ought to have loved him, as you would have liked…"

Kathryn gave a sigh. For a month she had bottled her emotions, shuttered her sorrow and didn't speak to anyone. At night she had taken Greer in her big, empty bed and lay crying with her daughter. Greer had stopped crying, though she still looked so lost. Kathryn didn't want to talk about it, but Phoebe was the kindest, bravest sibling who gave her no quarter at times. This time, her words pierced her deeply.

"No," she sighed again. "But I respected him, Phoebe. I made him happy and he - he made me happy too."

Outside, Greer sat under the oak while Peter and Ryan, Phoebe's twins who were a year older than Greer, pushed the swing. An empty swing, she realised. She watched with tenderness as Ryan tried to coax Greer to get on. Greer shook her head, but didn't move away like she had before when she would never stray too far from Kathryn.

"Are you going to let Chakotay know?"

"Horatio wanted me to."

"And Kathryn? What does Kathryn want to do?"

"I - I'm not sure of anything right now. It's still too soon, I guess."

"Maybe you're a coward, Sis."

"Phoebe, would you walk into another man's arms a month after Blair died?"

"Hell, I would be out of it for years. But I don't have the same set of parameters you have, Kathryn, so your question is moot."

"You're avoiding answering me directly, Phoebe. It is a month and too soon. Besides, it's my decision to inform Chakotay. I can't just walk up to him and - 

" - tell him you’re a free agent and would he please come back to you because you love him?" Phoebe completed her sentence, "that he should see your little girl?"

Kathryn smiled again, her heart still heavy.

"You love him, Katie. You deserve happiness."

"Phoebe…I don't think - "

"He has a right to know, Kathryn," Phoebe interjected, her words cutting through Kathryn like a sliver of ice. She was suddenly deathly cold inside.

"What…?" she asked, her voice sounding faint.

"Just what I said. I know about your annual trips to Venice, the week-long vacations you took, that you spent them with Chakotay."

"I - " Kathryn started, feeling suddenly trapped. 'I'd better be going…"

"Where to? To run away? Do you know what Tom Paris told me one day soon after you arrived home from the Delta Quadrant? He told me that Seven of Nine trapped Chakotay into marrying her, that Chakotay had done the honourable thing and that you had broken your engagement - "

"That's enough."

"I'm not finished. Seven of Nine gave birth to a beautiful little baby girl. Kathryn, have you ever seen his daughter? She must be all of what…fourteen?"

Phoebe's words were so harsh that Kathryn wanted to die from shame, from the old hurt that surfaced again. She gave a small cry and staggered back to sink down on the sofa, covering her face with her trembling hands. Phoebe sat down next to her. Kathryn felt her sister's arm on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Kathryn. But don't you think it's time you faced up to your life and take back what was stolen from you?"

"He has a daughter. And I've never seen her. I told him it was better that way…"

"And Greer? Kathryn?"

"God," Kathryn whispered painfully, "don't make me do this…I've suffered enough…"

"And now you deserve happiness - "

"I told you, Phoebe, it's - "

" - too soon."

Kathryn looked at her sister, saw the kindness there, the love, the genuine concern for her well-being and happiness. The tears she had tried so long to keep at bay began falling. She gave a great sob and fell into Phoebe's arms and wept heartbrokenly. Phoebe cried with her and later, when the tears stopped finally, Kathryn moved out of her sister's embrace and looked at Phoebe with a tear-stained face.

"Thank you, Phoebe…"

"Hey, that's what sisters do. But promise me - "

"I promise, Phoebe," she said, much calmer now. "I promise…"

Phoebe kissed her cheek before she rose from the sofa and made her way outside to join the children. Greer had climbed on to the swing and Kathryn heard her laugh. It was a good sound. Their daughter had been distraught in the first week after Horatio died, then had gone all quiet and weepy at nights missing her daddy. After that she rallied a little. Now, the questions had become fewer, as if her daughter, small as she was, had begun to internalise her own sorrow and longing for her father. Most nights Kathryn had gone to Greer's room and brought her to lie with her in her own bed, the two of them seeking one another's comfort.

It was so strange. She had had a good, intimate married life with Horatio. When he had suggested they either have separate beds or rooms, she had assured him that she wanted him to be her husband in every way, that she wanted to commit that way to him.

"I know you will always love Chakotay," he had said, "and I know you might - "

"Shhh… I made a decision to marry you, Horatio. I made a decision to break with Chakotay, however much it broke me, but I'll be your wife…"

And still, even over those first weeks, he had been incredibly patient with her, allowing her to cry her heart out, comforting her. Chakotay was the past for her, and Horatio her present. When she finally consummated her union with Horatio, she had been wistful for a while, yet filled with a pleasant feeling that her husband knew how to offer comfort. He had been tender, loving, their lovemaking like a quiet brook which, she sensed months later, she had needed very much.

Sighing, Kathryn leaned back against the sofa, closing her eyes. It hadn't been soul-shattering, but it was enough and it was good. Horatio had become a loving husband, a loving and doting father.

On his death bed, he had asked her that she allow their daughter to remember the daddy who raised her to her fifth year. At that memory, Kathryn's eyes burned again with unshed tears. Yes, she knew it was too soon to allow Chakotay into her life again, but confronting him one day was inevitable.

Distantly she heard the beeping of her mother's vid-com, hearing her mother seconds later tripping to her office and leaving Celine in charge of the cookies. The house was filled with the smell of baking and Kathryn had a sudden craving for the chocolate chip cookies as they came out of the oven, the way she and Phoebe had done as children. At fifteen, Celine was of medium height, resembling her father Blair, and creative like her mother.

Minutes later, Gretchen Janeway entered the lounge. Kathryn glanced up sharply, frowning when she saw her mother's puzzled expression.

"Mom? What is it?"

"I don't know… The message is for you, from Starfleet Law Enforcement - the off-world division. Seems they have impounded a shuttle. Will you - ?"

Kathryn was up before her mother finished her question and within seconds sitting down in front of the vid-com, staring into the face of a law enforcement officer.

"Admiral Janeway-Greaves?"

"Yes. Anything I can do for you?" she asked, her own puzzlement growing.

"I am Lieutenant Grosskopf of the Off-World Law Enforcement Precinct. We have impounded a shuttle - one called the Palmentoro. It has breached off-world protocols by not having any clearance whatsoever to touch down on Earth. The pilots have asked for you. Do you have any instructions?"

"If I knew who the pilots are, perhaps. How many?"

"There are two - they are…no, three. One they claim is ill and needs medical attention."

"Have you tended to the one who needs medical attention?"

"Uh…no, Admiral Greaves. They may have lied."

"But there is a third individual and they wish to speak with me."

"Aye, Admiral. The boy - "

"Boy?" Kathryn frowned. "How old are the pilots?"

"About fifteen, Admiral - "

"And you apprehended a pair of kids?"

Lieutenant Grosskopf looked embarrassed, a flush creeping into his cheeks.

"Admiral - "

"Let me speak with the boy," she commanded, emphasising the word 'boy' to indicate her displeasure at Starfleet Security remanding children.

A few seconds later the face of a young teen appeared. Kathryn turned ice cold at the sight of the boy. He looked exactly like Chakotay at the same age. Chakotay had once shown her a few pictures of the time his father brought him to Earth in search of the Rubber Tree People. He had been fifteen when his father took the tattoo. Now she stared at the teenager. The same face, the same strength, even at that age, the same…anger. It flew from the boy's eyes.

"I am Admiral Janeway-Greaves. What can I do for you?"

Already Kathryn sensed their appearance had to do with Chakotay, that the third person in the shuttle was Chakotay. She even sensed the boy's answer.

"My name is Tomaso, and Captain Chakotay is my uncle. He is very sick, Admiral. I fear he may die very soon. We have him here with us. You are the only person - "

"Who came with you, Tomaso?" Kathryn asked, her mouth dry as she realised that Law Enforcement screwed up.

"Carina - "

"Carina!"

"Aye, Admiral. She is very distressed and she can't stop crying. Please, help us. Please help my uncle. Carina is convinced you can save him, Admiral…"

"What is wrong with Chakotay?"

"He picked up an alien flu virus on his last freight run and then he turned…"

Now Tomaso looked as if he could burst into tears.

"What, Tomaso?"

"Insane…"

Kathryn remembered the time Chakotay had believed that he was going mad, that he would become crazy like his grandfather. If that was the case, had he done the children harm during the journey? How had they kept him under control? Her mind reeled.

"Tomaso, let me speak with Lieutenant Grosskopf. Don't worry. I'll sort things out."

Kathryn had hardly had time to digest the news that the teens had made it all the way from Polarya or Dorvan to seek medical help for Chakotay. The knowledge that Chakotay was with them and very ill made her heart jump. He was ill enough that they thought to bring him all the way to Earth.

"Carina, Admiral, she believes you are Uncle's only help."

"I'm coming, Tomaso. Don't worry, okay? Let Carina know that I'll make every effort to save her father…"

"Thank you, Admiral. Thank you!"

When she closed communication and looked up, Phoebe was standing in the doorway. How much Phoebe had heard, Kathryn didn't know.

"I'm going to ask you a big favour, Phoebe - "

"I'll take care of Greer until you send for her. Not to worry. So, what was that all about?"

"The 'soon' has become sooner than I thought."

Phoebe rushed forward and hugged her fiercely. When Phoebe held her at arm's length, she said softly, "Good luck, Sis…"

 

***************************

 


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

 

_My dearest love_

_Today you were so far away. It was not difficult to know where your thoughts had strayed to. It always happens from the fifth or second last day of our precious time together. You sat opposite me and the silence in the gondola as it glided through the water of the narrow canals was more oppressing than comforting._

_I thought I heard a nightingale sing, the only music above Federico's long oar cleaving the water. I sat back and studied you and once again, the worry overcame me, though I tried my best not to show it. But your eyes were distant, even as they met mine. Isn't that such an irony? You looked at me and yet you didn't see me._

_Where were you dwelling, my love? To the day that we have to part again? To when you leave Venice for home on Dorvan and I, to my lonely apartment in San Francisco? Were you thinking again that we are both nearing the time of our parting, when our last kisses are filled with sorrow and longing, of the prospect that we'll see one another again only a year from now?_

_My own heart is heavy, Chakotay. For I too, struggle with a great decision. The dark alleyways, when the tourists leave and when we meander through the district of Lantonini, strolling arm in arm and enjoying the peace and quiet, will be no more for us. Last night when we walked through the narrow lanes, I was again reminded of our reality, a realm in which we do not belong together._

_I looked at you today and the old feelings, familiar, for they walk with me always, overcame me. I know you'll tell me otherwise. I know you, too, try to wish them away. I was struck again by the fact, o unholy reality, that I am stealing the happiness of another._

_Tonight you lay in my arms, your warm breath on my skin making it tingle even now, and my heart ached like a thousand knife blades had cut it into shreds. Your face, lit only by the soft moonbeams that steal shyly into our room, bear none of the concerns of life, except the peace of being with me. All strain is gone. I touched your face as you slept and smiled when you murmured my name._

_I love you, Chakotay, so much that I am convinced that I'll not even stop when I breathe my last._

_But our time for now must end, and too soon. Too soon!_

Carina had memorised the words of Kathryn Janeway's fifth entry in her journal. It filled her with dismay that she sensed what Kathryn was going to tell her father.

Venice must be a beautiful city that they had chosen it for their time on Earth together. Carina's eyes grew misty as she stared out the viewscreen and thought of Kathryn's words in the journal. A city she wanted to visit and see all the places where her father had once been a happy man. A happy man with the woman he loved.

Thoughts of her father made her glance backwards quickly. Chakotay was now asleep again. Tomaso had found something in the med-kit which he determined wouldn't harm her father if he administered it. So in Chakotay's waking hours, he had lain on his back, not speaking to them, but also unable to move about much.

He had, for a second time, accidentally struck her, and it had made Tomaso so angry that he had flung Chakotay across the rear of the shuttle. After that, her father had quietened down and listened to Tomaso.

"When I am healed, God help you, Tomaso," Chakotay had threatened, "I'll come for you. Don't think I don't know what's happening…"

And Tomaso had taken no notice of his uncle, just made sure he remained tethered to the bunk.

She hadn't yet read the final entry in the journal, for she had been too afraid of what she'd read there. The two previous entries had filled her with a sense of doom. On the next page, there was a dried and pressed rose, the same colour she had seen in the encased glass in the wooden box. She had run the imager over the box, entered the information into the database and finally determined the wood was rosewood. But her mind kept coming back to the last entry. Her heart filled with dread.

She sensed that it had to do with why her father had become such a quiet man, the rage just under the surface of that quietness. Her mind went back to the time just before her eighth birthday when her father had returned from his annual vacation. Carina smiled tenderly as she once again glanced back to where her father and Tomaso lay sleeping on their bunks. Now she knew where her father had gone and why he had always been so sad when he returned from Earth.

Always sad. And then the questioning from her mother that started when he arrived home. Questioning that usually ended in an argument. One such conversation she remembered now. Her mother had been unsettled and her father resolute.

"It's my business, Annika. But you've won again."

Carina never knew what her father had meant with those words she had overheard, but now, the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place. Obviously her mother questioned her father about Kathryn Janeway, and her father had told her that he would not go away to Earth again. Her mother had accepted the news with some doubt, Carina believed now.

"Can you love me then, Chakotay?" Annika Hansen had asked.

"Because it's over doesn't mean things will change. I can't help how I feel, but you can rest assured now that my sojourns with her have come to an end."

That may not have been precisely the way the conversation went, but Carina thought that it was the gist of it. Her mother had retired, become harder, more impassive, detached. Her father had become reclusive at times. Never after that had she seen her parents enjoy an evening together or just talk about daily happenings.

They loved her, she realised, and she accepted that she had become the common bond between them. Still, she wanted her parents to behave towards one another like Tomaso's parents did. Always loving, always showing their affection for one another. Tomaso and Nina and Remy basked in their parents' love.

What did she have?

Nothing.

Sighing, Carina was brought to the present again when she heard her father begin to stir awake. Switching to autopilot, she moved quickly to the rear, sitting on the edge of the narrow bunk. He was perspiring again. It wasn't good to let him sleep for such prolonged periods, but he gave them little option when he descended into a raging fit.

The damp sponge was a relief when she pressed it to his lips, for he gave a sigh. Then his eyes flew open.

"Papa…"

"Carina…thank you…"

"How are you feeling, Papa?" she asked, dreading to hear his answer.

He closed his eyes, turned his head away from her. He gave a cry. Carina thought it sounded full of pain and despair. She touched his hand gently, relieved when he didn't slap it out of the way.

"Dirty. I need to wash."

"Sure, Papa. I'll take you - "

"No, I can help myself," he insisted, still facing away from her.

"Please. Just let me hold your hand. I - "

Then Chakotay turned to face her. His eyes were bloodshot, from the long hours he’d slept, from the pain, from the pure exertion of control over his demonic rages. He was snorting like a bull again. Carina looked to where Tomaso lay sleeping deeply. He had only taken a nap after being awake for more than forty eight hours.

She was alone with her father. When she looked at Chakotay again, he had shifted to sit up. He gripped her shoulders. She winced from the pain.

"Papa…" she whispered.

Then, looking directly in her eyes, she realised that he wasn't about to hurt her; he was trying his best to control the rage and fight the demons that were let loose. The madness great-grandfather died of, she had been told once.

"H-help me," Chakotay croaked.

His clothing was soaked through. He hadn't washed since the first day of their journey and had only used the toilet, something with which Tomaso helped him. Now, she bore her father's weight against her as he stood up. It was down a short stair and into the hold. Together they struggled, Chakotay shuffling along. By the time he stood in front of the sonic shower, he was exhausted. He stood a long time, regaining his equilibrium, the dizziness slowly receding. He had complained of the dizziness the last few days, and Carina hadn't been certain if it was the flu virus or the mad gene of his ancestors that caused the drunkenness.

She helped him strip, casting her eyes down at the embarrassed look in his eyes. When he finally stood inside the small cubicle, she activated the shower. A recycler and replicator had been fitted in this part of the shuttle and his clothes, soiled and smelly, had quickly disappeared. A fresh pair of pyjamas and boxer shorts were replicated. She glanced at her father who seemed a little stronger and refreshed, more sure of himself, more aware, too. It didn't fool her. They had a day to travel still and there was no telling how he would behave in the next twenty four hours.

When he was ready, his skin scrubbed and hair clean, she handed him a large towel.

"Will you be alright now, Papa?" she asked him as she moved away to give him time to dress.

"Yes…yes, I'll be okay…" There was a short pause. "Carina?"

"Yes, Papa?"

"Why?"

She was puzzled for a moment.

"I think you know, Papa. Mama is dead. I don't want to be alone," she replied, a little lamely.

"I'm going crazy. I feel I have no control over what is happening to me. I'll die, Carina."

"No! You must not say that, please!"

Then she strode out of the lower deck and made her way to the conn. Still trembling and fighting back the tears, she stared out the viewscreen, the view becoming blurred as she gave in and began to weep softly.

Tomaso was still dead to the world. She didn't want to wake him and pour her misery on him. She had done enough of that already. She stopped when she heard Chakotay come up. When she turned, he just stood there looking at her. Moving from her chair, she joined him and pressed him down on the bunk again.

"I hate being like this," he bit through clenched teeth as she tucked him in. He was already beginning to shiver. The temperature was raised in the cabin and he shouldn't have felt cold at all. He was shivering.

"Papa?"

A hand gripped and squeezed her heart, forcing her to cry out in pain. She was afraid. Tomaso had warned her that her father was regressing. Today he looked better but now, suddenly, cold fear took hold of her. She saw it in his eyes too, though he tried his best to bank it.

"Don't let them get me…" he muttered, furious at his own weakness. "Carina, keep away from me…"

"I can't, Papa. Let me give you something."

"I've slept enough," he said on a note of bitterness.

But she had made a good study of the items in the med-kit, had studied some medicinal agents in the database. She had already replicated some of the Valerian, a plant-based sedative that would allow him at least to lie still without the desire to sleep.

"This will be fine. Tomaso and I have made sure it won't harm you."

"Tomaso. He - he looks exhausted," Chakotay said as he glanced to the bunk where Tomaso lay sleeping.

"Yes, Papa. He's helped me a lot."

She administered the sedative, the hypospray making a swift hiss against his neck. She gave a wan smile as she watched his body relax. He sighed as he sagged back against the pillow. Later she sat on a little stool next to him and held his hand.

"Carina…I never did justice by you…"

"What do you mean, Papa?"

"Your mother and I… You must know that things weren't good between us."

"You punished me too."

"I know. I can never forgive myself. But I want you to know, sweetheart, that whatever happens to me, I love you. When you were born, I thought that you were the best thing that ever happened to me. Everything else faded…"

"Mama tried her best."

"I know, honey. I was at fault. I couldn't love her as she deserved…"

A silence ensued for several minutes. Carina rubbed the back of Chakotay's hand, smoothed his hair away from his face, leaned over to plant a kiss against his brow. It felt good loving her father, she thought, while he was in this state of normalcy. She had sensed very early on in her life that her father didn't love her mother, that the separate rooms they slept in weren't normal for a married couple who expressed their love through physical intimacy. Far back in the haze of the past, she remembered that they were in one bedroom, that she had sometimes joined them in the mornings and crawled in between them and loved both of them fervently. Then gradually, things changed. They became distant towards one another, hardly ever demonstrative.

Demonstrative. She saw Aunt Sekaya kiss Uncle Rhom often. They touched often. She had gazed at them with wonder at times, awed beyond measure. Then she wondered why her parents were never like that.

"You never kissed, held hands, shared a room, shared a bed. You rarely made conversation. No, Papa, I bear no resentment, for you each loved me, and for that I am grateful."

Chakotay closed his eyes. She saw how he struggled, biting his lips as he tried to will away the demons. The signs were more apparent now. The valerian was just enough to keep him calm, but awake. Sighing, she knew what was coming and she began to brace herself for the new onslaught.

"I am sorry, Carina, for not loving your mother. I wish I could. I tried, in the beginning."

"Did she trap you, Papa?"

His eyes flew open. "How did you know that?"

"Then it is true. She used me - " Carina felt at last the bitterness take hold of her, but she was her mother's daughter after all, so she repressed the negative feelings with great force. "But I am not sorry that you are my papa."

"Neither am I that you are my daughter. Thank you."

"Papa…"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"You know that we are taking you to Earth?"

"Yes," he said on a sigh. "I don't suppose I could ever stop you two."

"The EMH of Voyager will help and - and - "

"And who?"

"Admiral Janeway-Greaves…"

There was a long pause. Chakotay kept his gaze on her.

"Kathryn…" the name slipped from his tongue with the same caress she heard five days ago on Polarya.  "How - how…?"

"I found your rosewood box."

"Spirits!"

"Tell me about her. Please, Papa?"

"You read the journal?"

Carina remained quiet. She knew that reading the journal was breaching intimacy and privacy, but she had been unbearably curious. Also, it shed light on so many things. Chakotay's nostrils had begun to flare. The demons were preparing to attack him again. She stole a quick glance at Tomaso. He had shifted to lie on his side, facing the bulkhead. When she looked at Chakotay again, the fire was back in his eyes.

"Aye…" she replied softly, flinching when he suddenly lifted himself off the bunk. "Papa!"

"Annika!"

***** 

He was on fire again. The sonic shower had brought him only temporary relief. With superhuman effort  he tried to control his frenzied rage. There were times that he experienced flashes of lucidity, when he could see Carina and Tomaso clearly. Especially Carina. Then he saw how her fear overrode her courage.

They had regenerated his torn skin from self-inflicted deep scratches. Tomaso had done the cleaning up and at times he could hear Carina cry.

Another moment of clarity. Carina telling him about the journal.

Then he lost it altogether. Sharp, blinding flashes of Annika hounding him for days about the rosewood box, his own deadly rejoinders that he would kill her if the box was tampered with, or just moved a millimeter from its spot. Annika never touched it. Instead, he had succumbed to her plaintive pleas for intimacy in compensation and he had complied, sunk his flesh in hers and ravaged her the entire night. He remembered his raw anger, his lust, her pathetic pleading.

She had trapped him once. She wasn't going to do it again. He had done the honourable thing and married her, sleeping with her at will and at his own whim. He wanted to break from her, but knew that she would hold Carina as her marker, a bargaining tool. So he stayed, because of Carina. And so he used Annika's body, sometimes, and those times he couldn't get Kathryn out of his mind.

Kathryn Janeway. His life. His all. His breathing, his beginning and his end. The reason he kept plodding through every day, making arrangements months in advance to travel to Earth, away from Annika, away from Carina, to be with Kathryn for one week. A week in which he lived. Lived! Their last time together…

He had found the rosewood box. Kathryn had left, left him alone, stolen away in the night and left him everything that bound the two of them together.

For months afterwards, he had been demented.

Now, Carina tending to him, Carina, his utterly remarkable, beautiful fourteen year old daughter had read Kathryn's journal. He knew the words, had memorised them in those first hours that his heart broke, demented in his bereavement. He knew every word that pierced his very soul. And later, much, much later, when he could begin to focus again, he realised why Kathryn had left him the rosewood box.

She wanted him to have a memory.

And when Carina told him she had found the journal that spoke in the deepest, most intimate tones of their last summer in Venice, he had, once again, lost control.

The maggots that ate the inside of his flesh crawled through his body, below the skin where his nerves were raw, torn, and ached in unbearable pain. They never paused, never became still to offer him relief. They crawled and ate him up and he had begun to scream.

Because it was not Carina's face he saw, but Annika Hansen, mutilated, grotesque in death, her eyes mocking him. And the maggots told him it was time to rise up against his enemy and strike. He lashed out, trying to blot out Annika's face; he bore into her and struck her face with all his might. He was in great pain. He was irrational. He was demented. He was abusive, swearing and hitting whatever found a way to stop him, or to protect itself.

"You unfeeling bitch! I'll show you!"

And somewhere in his manic state, that part of his delirium that managed to retain a brittle hold on his reason, the reality of the present, he heard someone cry, "Papa! Papa!"

He stopped, the sliver of clarity long and wide enough for him to see the total fear on his little girl's face, her bloodied nose… Before the remorse set in, before he could utter a word of apology, he felt a cold, metallic instrument against his neck.

Tomaso stood before him.

"So help me God, Uncle, I swear I'm going to kill you!" were the last words he heard before he sank into the darkness his oblivion brought him.

***********

This time Tomaso was at the conn. Carina and her father were sleeping peacefully. He had woken up from the scuffling and swearing and one or two thumps. Carina was flung onto him. It took him only a second to grab the hypospray Carina had pressed under his pillow - a strategy they decided on - and render his uncle immovable again. There had been a moment when Chakotay was lucid, long enough for him to realise what he had done. But Tomaso had been furious with his uncle and had first thumped him good and solid in the stomach, winding him enough that he would stop. Then Tomaso calmly pressed the hypospray against Chakotay's neck and very quickly spread him along the length of his bunk.

Then he tended to Carina who was hysterical, lying under his bunk, crouched like a small baby or child who was filled with abject fear. He realised with sudden insight that Carina must have hidden under her bed whenever her parents had one of their arguments. They never got violent, was what Carina assured him, but her fear was always greater than her courage. And he had always told her it was because she was still only a child.

He had protected Carina more times than he could remember, had always told her to come to their home and sleep over. His mother never questioned him, except to say, "You two always make arrangements without our consent." And he would answer his mother, "Don't worry, Mama. Carina loves you and I know you love her. Why, she's like my own sister!"

Yes, he pulled Carina from under the bunk and cleaned her bloodied face, used the regenerator where skin had broken and once again, made the bruises go away. Then he had given her a painkiller, for she had a headache. She had knocked her head against the bulkhead when her father pushed her away from him.

He knew Chakotay didn't really see Carina but her mother.

Sighing, Tomaso prepared to enter Earth's orbit and land near Starfleet Medical. He had already determined the coordinates and knew exactly where to touch down.  He was startled when he heard a voice.

"You are making an unauthorised entry into Earth's orbit. State your position and the nature of your visit."

On the viewscreen appeared the face of a man dressed in uniform.

"My name is Tomaso, from the planet Dorvan V. But I have traveled from Polarya. I wish to touch down at the coordinates - "

"What is your business?" came the peremptory response.

"I am bringing my uncle here for medical treatment - "

"We are not convinced that that is so. Your vessel is not registered with the Federation. You could be spies."

"I assure you that we are not. Look, I'm fifteen and my cousin and her father are with me…"

By that time Carina had woken up and moved into the co-pilot's seat.

"We must reach the hospital. Our patient may die."

"You are not authorised to make a landing. Do you know anyone who might receive you?"

"Admiral Janeway-Greaves," Carina responded quickly, already close to tears again.

"Yes, Admiral Janeway-Greaves will definitely see us," Tomaso agreed. "Please, could you let us touch down first?"

The lieutenant frowned heavily, looking at the man sitting next to him. Beside him Carina whispered, "Tomaso!They're powering up their weapons!"

"Please, I beg you, hold your fire. We have a very sick man on board."

After a short pause, the security officer said, "Okay, you may touch down. One of my officers will wait for you at the landing ports. Do not try anything until I have contacted Admiral Janeway…"

When communication closed, Carina looked at him, her eyes filling with tears.

"Oh, Tomaso, I hope she'll come soon, or my father will surely die."

************

 


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

Her heart pounding wildly Kathryn made her way to Starfleet Medical in her own shuttle. The past hour had flown by like a raging wind blowing away everything in its path. She felt as if the wind had blown right through her and emptied her of debris, replacing the debris with something thrilling, clean,  something so potent that she still had difficulty breathing normally. But the EMH and his team were waiting for her, as well as Tomaso and Carina. She'd had to make arrangements for their accommodation, though she was certain B'Elanna and Tom wouldn't mind. Miral could use the company of other teenagers. Her eight year old brother Owen was no company. Besides, he was too boisterous and Miral often claimed she was ready to murder him.

She had to calm down. The short walk from her shuttle which she landed not far from Starfleet Medical gave her time to think about the events of the last hour. She had left Indiana, leaving behind a fretting Greer who wanted to accompany her to Headquarters because she didn't want to be out of Kathryn's sight. With great patience she and Phoebe and the boys managed to reassure Greer that Kathryn would return to Indiana soon. 

"Not too long, Mommy?" Greer had asked, looked sceptical and tearful.

"No, honey."

"Tomorrow, then?"

"Well, I may be away a little longer than that, honey. But I promise to bring you something nice, okay?"

"Crayons?"

"That, too!"

With that Greer was bought over and Kathryn had given Phoebe a grateful hug before she boarded her shuttle.

Then, the moment she was airborne, the instructions started.

"Lieutenant Grosskopf,  I take no pleasure in reporting you to your superiors - "

"But - but, Admiral!"

"You chose to disbelieve two young people who told you they have an emergency. It's not as if you couldn't have waited for them to make a landing, even if it were unauthorised. There are other ways. They're not a fleet of Cardassian war birds!"

"Aye, Admiral. I apologise, Admiral. Your instructions, please, Admiral?"

"Let Tomaso and Carina know that Captain Chakotay will be in good hands - "

"Captain _Chakotay_ , Admiral?"

"You mean to tell me you didn't ask them the identity of their patient!?" she asked, aghast and a little outraged.  

"We are indeed sorry."

Kathryn had no time to smile at the shame-faced look of Grosskopf. Instead, she shook her head at their blundering. Chakotay was still a Starfleet officer, holding the rank of consul, overseeing diplomatic matters on Dorvan and its neighbouring worlds, of which Polarya was one. She had known that he moved to Polarya a year or so before Seven of Nine died.

Lieutenant Grosskopf waited for her instruction.  

"Now," she started decisively, "Captain Chakotay is to be transported first to Starfleet Medical. Doctor Robert and his staff are waiting. I have already informed the EMH of the nature of Captain Chakotay's condition. He has suffered from the same illness before. Captain's Chakotay's daughter and his nephew are to be escorted by you to the waiting rooms outside the medical suite. Is that understood?"

"Aye, Captain."

"Now, let me speak to the girl."

"Aye, Admiral."

A second later, the face of a young girl appeared. Kathryn bit back a sharp intake of breath. She had never seen Carina, but anyone who had known Seven of Nine would have had no problem identifying her as Seven's daughter. She looked distraught, harassed, afraid.

"Carina?"

"A-Admiral Janeway-Greaves?"

"Yes, Carina. I'm Kathryn Janeway. I'm sorry about your father, but I want to give you the assurance that he'll be in good hands."

"Thank you, Admiral."

"And Carina…?"

"Yes, Admiral?"

"You have been very, very brave. I know the symptoms of your father's illness and know how he must have regressed into violent behaviour. Did he…?"

The young girl remained quiet for a second, bit her lower lip before responding. Her eyes were downcast, as if she were embarrassed to admit to something as horrific as abuse.

"I - I understand," Carina started, a little hesitant, then more confident, "that he was not himself. That he could not help how he reacted. I - I am fine now." Carina gave a gentle smile. "Tomaso threatened to kill Papa - "

"I think that your cousin is a lot like his uncle."

"Oh, yes! Tomaso is as tall as Papa. He protected me…"

"He does sound very protective. Just like your father, Carina."

Carina had given a tearful smile. "I am glad Papa has you, Admiral Janeway-Greaves…"

"And I'm glad your father has you."

Walking to the medical suites, Kathryn closed her eyes and sighed. Six years ago she had left Chakotay in the middle of the night. He had been married then and her guilt had hung too heavily on her to continue their illicit love affair.

She had closed communication wondering if Carina knew about her father and his former captain.

Summer was upon them again and Kathryn lifted her face skywards, enjoying the warmth on her skin. With some surprise she found that her hands were clammy, despite the mild weather. Was she nervous?

Over the past six years, she had always become melancholy during summer. Especially the first week of August, the time she had usually visited Venice. That first year had been particularly traumatic. She had married Horatio soon after her last summer with Chakotay, unhappy, brooding, filled with renewed regret that she left him. Then Greer was born; it brought light into her life again. But those first weeks after her birth… Kathryn sighed. If it hadn't been for Horatio…

She took in a deep breath as she entered the cool foyer of the medical facility used by Starfleet personnel. She was to see Chakotay for the first time again in six years, as well as meet his daughter and his nephew in person. Her heart gave a sudden, burning lurch at the thought of seeing them, especially Chakotay. Judging by that time on Voyager when he had almost knocked her senseless during his delirium and demented phase, she had no doubt that he might have been violent. Carina had admitted as much although she didn't reveal much of what had happened since Chakotay had fallen ill. And with that thought came the next: Carina had looked almost afraid. Their week-long journey from Polarya must have been filled with traumatic incidents.

In all, it must have been two weeks. Two weeks for a man to go completely mad, a man who refused medical treatment.

When she reached the waiting room, Carina and Tomaso were not there as she had expected. Then again, they might have insisted being present with Chakotay until she arrived. To her dismay, she heard loud noises coming from inside the medical suite, Chakotay's voice above those of the EMH, Tomaso and Carina.

Without waiting to announce herself, she entered.

Mayhem.

Chakotay was lying on the bed, but his body arched as if he had been stabbed in the back. His eyes were wild and for a moment she thought they were rolling so that only the whites could be seen.

"Keep away from me!" Chakotay barked.

"Lie still, Captain! How am I supposed to treat you if you don't listen?" said the EMH, pushing Tomaso out of the way.

"Papa, please listen to the doctor," Carina pleaded, her voice sounding tearful.

"Let me die!"

Kathryn moved swiftly to the bed, nodded to the EMH, Tomaso and Carina, who gave her a surprised, though penetrating look. They made space for her, moving away so that she was alone with the demented man. They faded into the background as she stepped forward to face Chakotay. In the few seconds she looked at him, she had time to assess the man she had loved hopelessly for more than twenty years.

As she had surmised, his eyes were wild, crazed by the pain of the alien flu as well as the tormenting demons of the dementia from which, he had been convinced years ago, he was never going to recover and would die like his grandfather before him. Chakotay's hair was matted to his deeply tanned skin, hair that had grown long, unruly. His cheeks were sunken. He looked gaunt, hungry. It was possible he hadn't eaten properly in weeks. How had Carina and Tomaso tended to him the past weeks and how had they dealt with his mad outbursts? They were still children really, too young to deal with taking care of someone who could die soon if he didn't receive treatment. They, especially Carina, must have withstood a lot from her father.

Chakotay was breathing heavily, as if every breath was a painful journey to his lungs. He was also foaming at the mouth, the froth just pressing past the corners.

"I told you I don't need help!" he bit out again. "Leave me to die, damn it!"

Then he grabbed her and tried to push her away. His eyes connected with hers, a connection without recognition in them.

"Chakotay…"

"Go away!"

"Chakotay…" she murmured his name again, softly. She took his wild, thrashing hand in hers and held on to it firmly. Over and over she called his name.

Chakotay's body convulsed. A wheezing sound escaped from his chest. His mouth was bleeding now, probably from biting his lip or his tongue. Stark eyes, dark and wild and afraid met hers again. As if her voice called the rational part of his mad meandering to order, he began to listen. For long moments his body shuddered, but Kathryn held his hand.

"It's me, Kathryn… You're safe now. Let us help you… Let me help you, my love…"

The last two words were said very softly, so that only he could hear them. Kathryn glanced quickly to the others, but they remained at a distance, blurred images.

"Let me help you, Chakotay."

Only then did awareness dawn, a recognition that sprang from the past knowledge of her, from history, attuned as he had been in the past to her voice and its inflection. The wheezing stopped for heart-rending moments; the shuddering body stilled. His hand in hers tightening its grip, not hard, not invasive, but thankfully.

"Kathryn…?"

"Yes, it's me, Chakotay. It's me. Everything will be fine now…"

"Kathryn…?"

It seemed to her the demons visibly retreated from his eyes, the fire in them dying, dying, replaced by a new kind of heated fervour. Recognition of her. His free hand came up slowly to her face, her cheek and she felt his fingers against her skin for the first time again in six years. The touch was soft, tentative, trembling fingers that found rest against her. She closed her eyes at the memories the contact evoked and her free hand lifted to cover his.

"Kathryn…Kathryn…" she heard him whisper her name, the sound low, yet audible, but also soft like the old, never forgotten caresses she remembered.

She felt how he tried to lift his head and how he sagged back. Her gazed fixed on him again and with a heart overflowing with unbearable love, she scooped him against her, not caring that the blood from his mouth, the sticky foaming, stained her uniform. He buried his face against her bosom as she held his head, her fingers lacing through his long locks.

Chakotay started shuddering again, the sounds of his muffled sobbing filling the room. Her own tears flowed and fell on him. She ached for him, cried with him and when he finally calmed down, he fell back against the pillow, his hands in hers. She reached for the cloth next to a bowl of warm water and gently she wiped his face, wiped away the blood and the residue of the earlier foaming.

"I never stopped loving you, my Kathryn… But I wanted to respect your decision. I know I don't deserve - "

She released his hand and pressed a finger to his lips.

"Shhh…" she said softly. "Let's get you well and on your feet again."

"I hungered for you. My thirst was like the driest desert that lived with me constantly."

Kathryn cupped his cheeks. "I'm here now, my love and you don't need to worry anymore. You're going to get better in a day."

"My love…? Kathryn?"

"Just let the EMH treat you, okay?" she said, seeing the eagerness and anticipation in his eyes at hearing her endearment. "You know what the treatment is. You've just…forgotten."

Chakotay gave a deep sigh and closed his eyes, his hands becoming limp as they slid from hers. He whispered, "We'll visit the Rialto and the Bridge of Sighs again…"

Finally, she stood up and turned to the EMH, her eyes still full of tears.

"He's ready for you now, Doctor."

She turned round, looking for Tomaso and Carina.

"They left the room, Admiral. I told them Captain Chakotay is in the best hands now and they needn't worry. You'll probably find them in the garden."

"Thank you, Doctor. I'd better find them and make arrangements for their accommodation…"

**************

_Dearest, dearest Chakotay_

_My love. I shall always think of you as my love! I wish I could let you leave Venice and the Bridge of Sighs, the Rialto, San Marco Piazza with the knowledge that we'll meet again here next year._

_I am so very sorry that I have to do this, Chakotay. You see, the past few weeks before I came I wondered if I'll ever be really happy waiting for just one time in the year to be with you. And I realised that I am doing you an injustice. I am not true to us. I feel constantly that I am breaking up a marriage, even if you declare over and over that you are not happy with your wife._

_I have to let you go, my love. I have to let us go. It is eating me up inside, this terrible guilt I feel every time I am here with you, every time I lie in your arms and feel your lips on my skin, every time we kiss._

_I can't do this anymore. I watch you as you lie sleeping so peacefully, with not a care in the world, it seems. The lines of strain and unhappiness are gone from your face. But, my love, I need more than just seven days in the sun, in a place where ghosts walk the dark alleys at night and whisper tales of ancient romances._

_You know I met a man several years ago who professed his love for me. He is a good man, Chakotay,  and before I came to Venice a week ago, he asked me to marry him. It was not the first time he asked, but always, thoughts of you, our love, our time together every summer have put me off giving him any answer._

_I am going to say yes to him, Chakotay. Horatio Greaves is a good man who loves me. He knows about you and knows about our love. He knows I can never love him as he deserves, but he has assured me that his love will be enough for the both of us._

_I leave you this journal and the rosewood box filled with the mementoes of our years together._

_Seven of Nine and your little Carina deserve a husband and father who will be there for them always, unconditionally. I leave you with a deep and aching sadness, but it is a leaving that must come to pass._

_Go to them, Chakotay and assure them of your love to them, your devotion._

_Yours forever_

_Kathryn_

_*******************_

 

Carina sat on a bench in the garden just outside the hospital. Her eyes filled with tears again as she recalled the last entry from Admiral Janeway's journal. She had left it in the box in the shuttle, but the words, written in such a beautiful hand, remained imprinted in her memory.

She had seen the woman at last. She had seen Kathryn Janeway, the woman for whom her father pined all his life. She still didn't know how or where she herself fitted in all of this, except that her mother must have tricked her father into marrying her after he made Seven of Nine pregnant. Those circumstances were also a mystery to her, a romantic mystery that would reveal itself to her in time to come. How could her mother do this to a man whom she knew to be desperately, beyond any reason, in love with Kathryn Janeway? How had her father and the love of his life, the captain of Voyager, come to a point where they might have had an argument in which bad words might have been spoken?

Whatever the circumstances, it had resulted in her father making her mother pregnant, her mother giving birth to her. She should feel terrible and angry and devastated that she, Carina, was a tool used in a game of deceit and love. Her mother loved her father, of that there was no doubt, but how could such a love have been contracted through avenues of dishonesty and betrayal?

"I am not sorry that I am here, now, the daughter of Chakotay, but I am sorry that the wrong people were thrown together to make something work that didn't…" she whispered softly to herself.

It was a warm day, summer on Earth, she realised. Not as hot as on Dorvan or Polarya. Tomaso had taken a walk. "To discover the place," he told her. She hadn't wanted to go anywhere but wait here where she could see ducks, hear the sounds of birds, wondering what Admiral Janeway was going to do, thinking about her father and his love for this woman, thinking about the city of Venice with its waterways and hundreds of little bridges, the basilicas and cathedrals, all places of antiquity. Not only did she want to see the place where her father was happy for a small part of the year, but for her own curiosity too. She was curious about so many things, like exploration and science.

She heard footsteps on the path behind her and glanced quickly round to see who was approaching; her heart suddenly lifted when she saw it was Admiral Janeway-Greaves. The admiral looked really petite though rather imposing in her uniform. She wore her hair in a short bob that curled a little inwards on her shoulders.

And she was smiling.

Carina felt a great reassurance. She stood up, wanting to click her heels together at attention. In fact, she was already standing when the admiral beckoned her to sit down again. Then the woman sat down next to her.

"You are as beautiful as your mother…" were the first words spoken by Kathryn.

Carina felt a blush, but also the old rancour.

"These days it is not a good association, Admiral Janeway-Greaves."  She turned her face away from the penetrating stare but felt a hand guiding her firmly to meet Kathryn's gaze. Admiral Janeway's eyes were kind, just as she thought they might be from reading her journal entries.

"I am sorry about you mother. She tried her best…"

"To split you apart!" she responded suddenly, with fervour.

"Carina?"

"My f-father was never happy, Admiral. Never! He never smiled much and I've never heard him laugh. My mother couldn't. She tried. But she couldn't. I could never understand why they couldn't show affection like Tomaso's parents. I - I never understood."

"Carina, is there something you're not telling me here?"

"We came to Earth because of the journal."

Carina looked away as she saw how the admiral became very pale. It lasted a few moments only.

"You…read my journal?"

"I found the rosewood box. It wasn't difficult for me to open the lock."   She paused, took a deep breath before continuing. "I understood for the first time why my father was so driven… Forgive me, Admiral, that I breached your p-privacy," she said, beginning to stammer again. "Forgive me…"

Carina looked away, wanting to escape the hurt and the anger in Admiral Janeway's eyes. But she felt herself pulled towards the woman, closer and closer until she hurled herself against Kathryn Janeway-Greaves and began to weep forlornly.

It felt so good to cry with abandon and not worry about smudging and being embarrassed. The arms that enfolded her were comforting and reassuring, pressing her closer. She felt lips pressing against the top of her head. She cried harder, remembering how her mother always admonished her not to cry. Now she felt it was good to express her emotion with so much freedom. And Admiral Janeway cooed to her, as if she were just a little girl needing comfort, her hurt kissed better. She never stopped her words, spoken in soft tones. "My angel…" she heard the admiral say. "You don't know how many times I wished to know you…" "It's okay…shhh…don't you worry.  Everything will be fine from now on…"

She wanted to stay forever like this being comforted by a woman who was her father's first and only love. A good woman from whom only kindness and strength exuded. But mostly kindness, of the kind that made anyone want to rest her head against her soft bosom.

Just like a mother.

Like a mother.

The tears stopped eventually and when she finally moved out of the admiral's embrace, she sat staring at her with tear-filled eyes, sniffing like mad until she saw a proffered hand holding a snow-white handkerchief. Thankfully she took the offering and dried her eyes and nose.

"Thank you, Admiral - "

There was a long pause. Then, "Carina, since you've read my journal, you know that I am married…"

"Yes, Admiral. I still wanted to bring Papa here so that you could give him hope again. But your husband - ?"

"He died, Carina, in a shuttle crash, with Admiral Owen Paris, a month ago."

She stared - gaped at the Admiral. No wonder her eyes looked so sad. Only a month… When Seven of Nine died, she had cried for a long time until she could cry no more.

"I am indeed sorry, Admiral, that you have lost your husband. I am sure that Papa didn't know…"

"No, I didn't inform him. I should, actually. Now the situation has changed a little. As soon as he's recovered…"

"Do you have children, Admiral?"

"I have a little girl, Carina. She's only five."

"I should like to meet her very much."

Admiral Janeway stood up and took her hand. "You will, soon, okay? Her name is Greer."

Carina thought she saw apprehension in Admiral Janeway's eyes. 

"Admiral…"

Another pause as Admiral Janeway gave her a penetrating but soft look.

"Yes?"

Carina dug her hand into the pocket of her gilet and retrieved one of the objects she had found in the rosewood box. Kathryn Janeway looked on with a curious air. Carina opened her palm and on it lay, face up, the miniature.

"I found this miniature in the rosewood box," she started softly. "Papa must have put it there himself. When-when you described the mural that he said he commissioned, I thought he must have lied to you. Papa did the mural, Admiral. As sure as I am standing here, I know he did it. This miniature…is it the same portrait of you as the painting on the wall?"  Carina felt grateful, happy when Admiral Janeway nodded without saying anything. Her eyes were soft, though. Soft and watery. "I was still small when I saw Papa work on this. He told me it was a - a Renaissance painting…"

There was another pause as Kathryn Janeway took the miniature and held it on her palm.

"Please, make Papa happy again?"

"Carina…"

"And - and I could still need a mom…"

"Oh, Carina…"

 *******************

   

 


	8. Chapter 8

Chakotay felt much, much better. His mind was clear now, although his body still bore the ravages of exhaustion. He could see as clearly now as he had ever seen, marking his own descent into the hell he had experienced the last two weeks with great shame and guilt and embarrassment. 

More than ever, he was aware of how he had treated those closest to him. It was easy, came the unpalatable thought, to justify his behaviour as a condition he couldn't help, or he wasn't himself, something else had controlled his mind. Yes, it was easy.

It didn't make his embarrassment or his guilt less. He felt sick to the stomach of what he had put Carina through. Sick. He owed her a great deal. Since Seven of Nine died, he had tried to be both mother and father to his daughter. Her resemblance to Seven didn't make it easy. He didn't make it easy. Carina was just like he was: hungering for connection. Yes, he owed his daughter a great deal. 

But in the last hour since he had awakened, his thoughts were mainly dominated by one person - Kathryn. He sensed she had been with him last night. He knew that her presence had finally calmed the raging demons in him. He knew that losing her six years ago, the memories that plagued him for so long, missing her like his very breath, had been the things his demons brought to the fore again. It was knowing that he had lost her forever that had driven him so much in the last six years. 

He sat up and gingerly put his feet down on the floor. Giving a sigh of relief, he found he could stand up straight without feeling dizzy. He had been pumped so full of sedatives that he never wanted to come near a hypospray again. It was a way of keeping his dementia under control, he knew, and a measure to protect Carina and Tomaso and Sekaya. Somewhere in his hazy recollections, he could still hear Tomaso threatening to kill him if he laid a hand on Carina again. Again. How many times had she been in the way of his thrashing body and flailing fists? He recalled that she had cried often during the journey to Earth, something that had enraged him even more. He didn't want to hurt Carina. Never.

Just mentioning Earth had struck him blind with rage. He hadn't wanted to come to Earth, knowing that he'd have to come within Kathryn's orbit again, that Kathryn was happily married and lost to him. He had heard too that Kathryn had a child. The thought of Kathryn bearing another man's child had filled him with sick, profound jealousy and longing. It threw him into a spin for months after hearing the news. But he remembered back in those first years they had shared a summer together in Venice, how much Kathryn had wished that Carina was hers. She never said it openly to him, but a few times in the night, in her restless slumber she had murmured that wish. And so he finally understood how much damage had been done to Kathryn as well when he made Annika Hansen pregnant. 

What Seven of Nine had done was, he supposed, an act of desperation, an act of betrayal and deceit. Yes, he had had a role to play too, being seduced while he was inebriated. For that he paid the price, fifteen long years. But he was not sorry that he had Carina. She had become the light in his life, although he knew that he had never really done justice by her either. The spitting image of her mother and being unreasonably angry with Seven all those years had blighted his relationship with his daughter. 

Something he wanted to correct.

He moved to the window, enjoying being alert for the first time. The headaches were gone and the fire in his body, the flames of hell that burned unceasingly through him were gone. A freight run to one of the more distant and isolated worlds where he'd picked up a flu virus was what brought on his condition. He remembered feeling sick, vomiting often, remembered the dizzy spells, convincing himself that it would blow over because he had a very strong constitution. He remembered the fever, the constant sweating, the damp and dank sheets; he remembered letting himself go, not caring, falling into degradation. Then he remembered the humiliation of his daughter washing him. 

The view looked good this morning. The sun was out. He remembered the doctor's diagnosis and prognosis late last night, after he had finished his treatment. 

"Captain, I can assure you now that it was not your recessive 'mad' gene that brought on your dementia."

"What?"

"No. That has always been under control since I treated you that time on Voyager. You were never in danger of succumbing to it again. While the people of Diatorath display similar symptons to our own Earth flu, that strain of their virus has an adverse effect on humans. High fever, burning sensation in the body, aching muscles, and most of all, dementia. I've treated a few cases in humans of Diatorath flu. Don't blame your grandfather again - "

"Doctor, are you telling me…?"

"That condition I cured on Voyager. You may have thought otherwise, but I can assure you, you won't contract or succumb to it again. Or this alien 'flu…"

He had time only to mouth the word 'thanks' before drifting naturally with great relief into sleep. Now he was awake and he felt good, although the feeling of well-being was tempered with the old envy that Kathryn was lost to him. 

How could he explain to anyone how precious the short week every summer had been to him? After a few years of marriage to Annika, he had refused to share a bed with her. His body hungered constantly for Kathryn and sometimes, God help him, he used Annika, Annika who was always pathetically happy to have him make love to her.

Summer in Venice. That first year it was unplanned. They had met there accidentally. Had chosen the same destination to spend a few days' vacation. Perhaps, he had concluded in the years following that first meeting, it had been destiny that brought them there, to Venice, a coincidence greater than providence, greater than anything they would ever understand. 

He had wanted to escape from the drudgery that his marriage had become, had wanted to be alone somewhere, drifting like flotsam on a sea of nothingness. He was content being carried on a current to nowhere. That current led him to Venice. 

He had seen Kathryn standing on the Bridge of Sighs. She looked lonely, devastated, melancholy. Her sadness burned roads of pain right through his heart. Then she had looked up and seen him. She smiled - a tender, sad smile. When he joined her there, they had held hands. The attraction was instant. Drawn to one another, they had found it impossible to prevent what was to happen next. They had dinner in a small, intimate restaurant. Later they had walked the narrow alleys, holding hands, delaying the inevitable moment of joining and reclaiming what was always theirs. When he reached his hotel, she had not demurred when he simply kept holding her hand and led her to his room. It felt hypnotic, mysterious, beautiful. And for seven days they were happy together. They made a decision that they'd meet like that every year.

"I ask only this, Kathryn. Please…"

"Yes…"

Then had come their seventh year together. Kathryn left in the middle of the night while he was still sleeping; she left him with the rosewood box and the journal. He had gone completely mad for a while, a madness that was tempered by the reality of their situation, and the acknowledgement that Kathryn had been right. It offered him no relief, however, that she had done what she needed to do: put distance between them forever because it was destroying her. He had to swallow the fact that he had asked too much of her. Too much. After that, he punished Annika. He'd taken her at will and subjected her to depravity, never engaging in conversation with her. Annika went on with her work and he went on with his. They lived apart in more ways than just living in the same house and separate rooms. Punishing her was his punishment for throwing away what he had with Kathryn after they had had their first major argument on Voyager, weeks before they were home in the Alpha Quadrant. He had stormed off and sulked like a child, drunk himself senseless, and being so unconditioned to unbridled drinking, had easily been seduced by Annika who, it seemed, had wanted him for a long time. 

He didn't remember much of that night, but he did remember that she offered him solace. 

Some solace. Three weeks later she told him she was pregnant. He went to Kathryn first. Kathryn who broke off their engagement immediately and told him to honour his pending parenthood by marrying Seven. 

Chakotay shook his head, trying to rid himself of those memories. He wanted to concentrate on the new dimension to his life, to the one thing that remained burned in his awareness as he wept against Kathryn's bosom yesterday. It had been her voice that pulled him to the surface, that brought him back from the brink of madness, that soothed his fevered brow, that comforted him.

And her words, "…my love…"

He hadn’t imagined those words and for the past hour they had haunted him. Why would she use such an endearment if she didn't mean it? Did she mean it? Where was Greaves? Why? Could Kathryn in one moment give him hope only to dash that hope in the next? During their steamy nights in Venice she had often called him "my love…" more times than he could remember; he had used all kinds of endearments for her. He had felt her skin yesterday - velvet and soft yet firm, skin that unleashed every memory of their times together. He heard her voice, mellow, familiar…oh so familiar! 

He felt a prick behind his eyelids. He was never, as long as he lived, going to stop loving Kathryn Janeway. He had killed himself emotionally on Dorvan, then later on Polarya, trying to forget Kathryn, trying to keep himself from calling out her name in his desperation. Seven had sensed this and turned into herself, her own loneliness hers only, never his. They had had an agreement but only if Seven herself asked for a separation, would he leave. She never did and so he never went. In any case, her veiled threats that he wouldn't see Carina kept him trapped. Mainly he cared about Carina, remained in a loveless union because leaving it meant leaving Carina. He couldn't leave his little girl, for she was all he had. More times than he could remember, he too wished that Carina had been Kathryn's. There was nothing worthy from his union with Seven of Nine, except a child who resembled her mother and who unwittingly was punished because of it. 

Carina reminded him that he was unhappy. 

A sound outside alerted him to someone approaching. His heart hammered furiously. The door opened. It was Kathryn, resplendently dressed in admiral's uniform. 

"Kathryn…"

Beloved. 

Her face was as he remembered it always - smiling, kind, tender. Her eyes never left his, never broke contact with him. She walked slowly towards him and didn't stop until she stood in his embrace. A movement, quiet and instinctive and so completely natural that there was no thinking about it, no prior planning. She felt warm, here, her golden hair like silk beneath his fingers. He cupped her head against his chest. Her arms enfolded him and he wanted her arms to keep holding him. He pressed his lips into her hair, inhaled the smell of fresh apples mixed with brandy. Or that was what he imagined. What he knew was that he was drowning, this time in a sea where Kathryn was his anchor with a destination plotted, a sense of coming home. 

For long, long minutes they didn't speak, just breathed in the hallowed nearness of one another, treasured a new connection. For suddenly he felt new, something about Kathryn was different, free. But first, the urge to explain his own need of her…that which had been paramount in all his desires, in all his dreams, in all his thoughts for fifteen long years. 

"I was like that deer in the psalm…" he murmured softly, finally, remembering once reading the psalm and admiring the sheer poetry of it. "My thirst was great and my hunger unceasing…"

Lifting her head, but reluctant to move out of his embrace, she looked deeply into his eyes. He felt the prick of tears again. She felt so good, so home that his hope sprang like a wild brook in his chest.

"So was mine, my love…" she whispered softly.

"My love? You called me that yesterday. It was what kept me…hoping. Your…" He didn't want to bring up her husband, didn't want to mention the name, yet he had to know what was happening, why Kathryn felt so free standing like she did in his arms. "Your husband…?"

She gave a deep sigh, the shadows returning to her eyes. A sad smiled played around her mouth. A sad, sad smile.

"He died, Chakotay," she said softly, her voice thick with emotion. "A month ago, in an accident that claimed the life of Owen Paris as well…"

"Owen Paris is dead?" he asked, dazed, the knowledge that her husband was dead too evoking in him a myriad of conflicting emotions.

"Yes. Owen and Horatio. Owen died instantly, Horatio died a day later…"

"I am sorry to hear it, Kathryn. I would never have wished for something like this to befall you. I kept away…you must know…"

"Yes, Chakotay. I knew you would remain true to your promise, hold on to your honour. But now I am alone again - "

"Alone?"

"I've put off contacting you, to find myself again, I suppose. Your arrival here has hastened my decision. Yes, I am free again, though not so free as you might think," Kathryn said, and he thought he saw a slight fear in her eyes. Of what was she afraid? he wondered.

"Kathryn?"

"I have a daughter, Chakotay. Her name is Greer. She has taken the death of her father quite hard."

He closed his eyes, picturing Kathryn with a little girl, feeling the old rancour rising in him again.

"A little girl…"

"Yes. I'd like to introduce you to her. But first, there's someone wanting to see you. I've asked her to wait outside."

"Kathryn, before she comes in, tell me now: is there hope for me?"

She gave him a beauteous smile.

"As much hope as you want."

Only then did he lower his head to kiss her and when their lips touched, he felt the old chemistry again. It sent little shivers down his spine. A long, lingering, tender kiss he was reluctant to break, but had to. Her eyes were watery, a sheen through the tears. 

"I'll wait for you, Kathryn. There's much to talk about, including how my daughter came to read your journal."

****** 

When Kathryn stepped out of the hospital room, she gave Carina a quick hug. Carina looked rested; she had slept like a log. Kathryn had taken both Carina and Tomaso to her own home, letting Tomaso sleep in the spare room and Carina bunk down in Greer's room. Carina had exclaimed with wonder at all the soft toys, the typical things little girls hoarded in their rooms, a little shelf with books - from Peter Rabbit to stories of Flotter and Treevis. 

It had been good talking to the teens, good to get to know Carina. 

"Is this Greer?" Carina had asked as she pointed to a picture on the wall.

"Yes, that's Greer." Kathryn's heart had raced like mad as she gauged Carina's reaction.

"But she looks like - "

"Yes, Carina," she added softly, "yes, she looks like her father."

And with that, she had begged with her eyes that Carina not question her anymore. They had washed, had dinner with her and later had gone to sleep, since both were exhausted, especially Tomaso. 

Now, Carina was ready to see her father.

"Go to him, sweetheart."

Carina's eyes registered surprise at the endearment. She smiled a little, still too hesitant meeting her father. 

"When will Papa see Greer, Admiral?" she asked.

"As soon as we are all ready to leave for Indiana…"

"I hope he likes her."

"I pray so too. Go now. He's waiting."

**************

Carina stood just inside the door, too afraid to put another foot forward. The last time she had seen her father, he had been spitting like ten cobras. He had given her a hard time and even in his delirious state, he lashed out at her. She knew he couldn't stand looking at her for long because of her mother. 

But she was not her mother, if only Chakotay could see past that. It was difficult for him, she had to concede. Her meeting in the garden with Admiral Janeway had been astounding. She had liked the older woman instantly and felt very, very drawn to her. Admiral Janeway had taken a lonely young girl to her bosom in a way her own mother never had. She had always missed that, feeling connected to her mother. With Admiral Janeway it was so normal, so spontaneous. She could cry as much as she wanted to and feel good and cleansed afterwards.

She prayed that her journey to Earth had not been in vain and that her father would be happy again. Chakotay stood by the window looking her way. He looked stern, unsmiling.

Her heart sank. 

Was she wrong? Did she make a mistake after all?

She stood, wanting to run out the room again. 

Then he put out his hand.

"Come here, child."

"Papa!"

She ran into his arms and cried her heart out. He held her very close, whispered words of reassurance to her, made her feel like a little girl again who sat on his lap while he told her stories and ancient legends. 

When at last he held her apart, she saw that he was serious.

"Papa…?"

"Forgive me, Carina. Forgive me for everything. For deserting you, for hurting you whenever I looked at you and thought I saw someone else. Forgive me…"

"Papa…all is forgiven. I love you, Papa. I wouldn't have brought you all the way to Earth if I didn't. I would have left you right there in your room on Polarya to die in shame and loneliness!"

She hadn't meant for her words to come out like they did, but then she stood and gaped at her father in total amazement and consternation.

He was laughing. She had never heard him laugh.

"Papa?"

When he finally stopped, he pulled her into his arms again and hugged her fiercely.

"Thank you, honey. I love you. I…am sorry for all the hurt I caused you over the years. It's different now. I'm glad you braved my anger to bring me here. All is well, okay?"

"And Admiral Janeway? The lady of the journal? Your own true and everlasting love?"

"Carina, I don't regret that you read the journal. I feel a little relief that I'm not alone anymore. Yes, sweetheart. Kathryn Janeway is my own true love, my first and only - "

"And you promise to tell me later how it all went wrong."

"Yes, honey."

"And Papa?"

"What is it?"

"I remember three years ago, when I showed you my science project specs, you said I reminded you of her. I asked whether you meant Mama? You never answered me, Papa. Never. Will you answer me now?"

She saw her father's eyes go warm with remembrance. She thought that Admiral Janeway-Greaves should tell him to cut his hair and shave. She was sure her father would listen. She thought that her life was about to become very exciting.

"I meant Kathryn, honey. You reminded me so much of her then. You were only eleven and already you showed an intuitive feel for science; your curiosity was natural born, I guess. Your mother was great too, but never as great as Admiral Janeway and never as intuitive."

"I am like Admiral Janeway?" she asked, her heart wanting to burst with pride.

"In more ways than both of us realise…"

"Oh, Papa, I am so happy. Can we live here on Earth forever?"

"That, Carina, only Kathryn can answer for us."

Carina heard the door open, heard the light footsteps of Kathryn Janeway. Her husband had died a month ago. She had told them last night and she had felt alternately sad for Admiral Janeway and happy for her father. The way the Admiral had walked into the ward yesterday and calmed her father with just her voice… Carina knew now that Kathryn Janeway was the only woman for Chakotay. 

If they could convince her. 

*************

Finale and epilogue to follow


	9. Chapter 9

* * *

For Phoebe, Indiana was a perfect place to raise children. She watched her two boys and Greer play outside, about fifty metres away, under a tree that had a swing. Their laughter rang out in the quiet Indiana air. Greer seemed to enjoy herself. She had asked after her mother a few times and had been weepy just once. Last night Kathryn had spoken with her on vid-com and that had appeased the child.

Playing with her cousins was better than being in their own apartment with only the memories of a dead father and husband as company. Greer was a child who needed other children's company, Phoebe thought. It took her mind off herself, and becoming too melancholy. She preferred seeing her children happy and laughing even as she admitted that circumstances might decree otherwise. Phoebe couldn't blame Kathryn. Horatio's death had been a blow to her and had ripped a vital anchor away from her. Not that Kathryn didn't know how to find herself again, but Horatio had been a blessing, a stable rock that Kathryn needed after the terrible betrayal by Chakotay and Seven of Nine.

She had tried to hate Chakotay and couldn't, accepting that a woman could go to strange lengths to get her man. Seven had tried, succeeded and caused Kathryn personal pain for fifteen years. And Kathryn, bless her, didn't have to tell them much. They sensed her deep unhappiness and then the annual clandestine trysts in Venice… Phoebe had begun to wonder when Kathryn would decide that a half-baked affair was wearing her down, until six years go when her sister announced that she was marrying Horatio Greaves, a widower. Horatio had been dating Kathryn for years, had been in love with her for years, Phoebe amended, and Kathryn had held off validating her relationship with him.

And then Greer was born and Kathryn seemed to come alive again. Their mother had been happy and had gladly helped Kathryn with Greer when the child was still a baby.

But they all knew that in Kathryn's twilight world of sad memories, Chakotay still lurked. Chakotay, who himself had a daughter and whose wife had died three years ago. They all sensed that there was a deep, abiding love between Kathryn and Chakotay, and that Kathryn had twice made a decision in which she came off second best. Letting Chakotay go again had been hard on her but they all knew Kathryn was a trooper who would rally from another setback and get her life on track again. Horatio was a beloved brother-in-law who absolutely adored Kathryn and their little girl. Yes, she thought, Horatio had brought stability into Kathryn's life again and his death was a shock to them all.

They had wanted Kathryn to communicate with Chakotay as soon as Horatio was in his grave but Kathryn had put off letting Chakotay know. It was too soon and with that statement from Kathryn, they had to be content. Phoebe suspected Kathryn hadn't wanted to rush to Chakotay with the news of "My husband is dead and I'm available again" and she understood that about her older sister. It wasn't in Kathryn's nature to run after a man and she wanted to have a dignified period of mourning.

That Chakotay had been brought to Earth by his daughter and his nephew was a complete surprise, even though it was thought that Chakotay had been near dying. It was a mercy dash to Earth and Phoebe wondered how much Chakotay's daughter knew of her father's affair with Kathryn Janeway. Whatever she knew, it was enough to make her decide that Earth and Kathryn were to be Chakotay's salvation. Last night during their communication, Kathryn hadn't revealed much, except to say that he had been treated by the EMH and had recovered fully. It was the look in Kathryn's eyes that made Phoebe think Kathryn's period of mourning was going to be relatively short. Her eyes had a dark sheen in them; Phoebe had never seen Kathryn so alive.

Kathryn was happy again. It exuded from her, in the inflection of her voice, in the way her eyes became soft when she spoke about Chakotay.

Kathryn had informed her that Chakotay and his daughter and nephew were accompanying her to Indiana. She didn't have to do that, but Phoebe sensed it was to provide a good and familiar setting for Greer to meet the man whom she knew would become a part of Kathryn's life again. It was a very important meeting.

"They'll be here in a few minutes," she heard her mother say as Gretchen came to stand next to her in front of the window.

"I know. I'm happy for Kathryn, Mom. Happy that things will work out again. It's been long - "

"Fifteen years. I always caught the shadows in her eyes in unguarded moments. She deserves happiness. She told me last night that Carina is a pretty young girl who desires that her father be happy again." Gretchen gave a deep sigh. "I pray it will be so. I just pray that he accepts Greer."

"He will, Mom. I'd give ten bars of latinum to see his expression when he looks at Greer. Ten bars…"

"He'll know."

"I know, Mom. I know."

***************

Chakotay held Kathryn's hand in the shuttle where they were sitting side by side on the bunk while Tomaso and Carina were piloting the vessel to Indiana. It had been a good decision because he wanted to be near Kathryn, close enough to her that he could touch her cheek, hold her hand or even kiss her in a brief, searing loving kiss. Tomaso and Carina didn't seem to mind either, their knowing glances causing him brief embarrassment, which soon evaporated when they insisted that the adults needed time alone.

In a shuttle?

He felt a certain caution in Kathryn, as if she were apprehensive about something. They were going to meet her sister and her mother as well as Phoebe's husband, their children and Kathryn's daughter. There was another, smaller cottage on the property and he could spend a few days there with Carina and Tomaso while making arrangements for their future. Tomaso, he knew, was heading for Starfleet Academy and Carina harboured the same desires, though he knew that Seven of Nine had always dampened their daughter's queries, had never encouraged her to explore the possibilities of one day entering the Academy, to learn about Earth and Starfleet. He had known it was because Seven didn't want Carina near Kathryn. Things had changed in the last three days, and now there was ample time and opportunity to show Carina the ropes and for Carina to get to know Kathryn better. She and Tomaso were to meet with Miral Paris later. Miral was to take the two on a tour of the Academy and Headquarters. He felt terrible that Miral had lost her grandfather in the same accident that claimed Horatio Greaves. Kathryn had told him that Tom was taking his father's death very hard.

Kathryn hadn't shown him any pictures of Greer, and he was very curious to meet her, too. He felt no bitterness now, not anymore. Before he had been so completely blinded by his jealousy although he knew he had no reason to be. He had been married then to Seven of Nine and Kathryn had decided to get on with her life without him in it. But it had destroyed him, for Kathryn had been the only thing that was good in his life - good and pure and honest. Up until the EMH had declared him fit again, he had been driven by his demons, by the loss of a critical and living part of his life. Now, looking at her, seeing how her eyes lit up, he felt privileged to be with her again. Not as the sometime once-a-year lover, but hopefully a permanent part of her life from now on. Carina was ecstatic, had declared that she'd love to have Kathryn as her new mother. He had had to put a brake on his daughter's enthusiasm and tell her it was too soon to make those kind of predictions. But Carina had been unstoppable in her belief that things would work out and he had been awed by her faith. Carina was a lot more like Kathryn, he realised with a pang.

Now, Carina's physical resemblance to Seven, the pain it had always caused him, had lessened dramatically now that Kathryn was back in his life. He could look at his daughter and see only a young teen growing up, who needed him and who definitely needed a mother.

He thought about Kathryn now, sensing her discomfiture.

"Are you okay, Kathryn?" he asked softly, caressing her cheek.

"You'll be meeting my family. They…know…"

"I see. I guess they must have hated me."

"No. They didn't. They're curious about you, and would love to see Carina. She's a beautiful child, Chakotay."

"The best thing that came from my sham marriage."

"Please…"

"It's okay. I'm not bitter anymore. I trust you and know that I'll be a part of your life from now on, if you'll have me."

"Of course," she told him, pulling his head closer to kiss him.

"So why the unease?"

Kathryn gave a sigh as she rested her head against him. She didn't answer. He pressed his lips against her hair. Things were still so fragile between them. She was a widow; her husband dead a month ago. He had to give her time, space. "It's okay, sweetheart," he assured her, revelling in the fact that he could call her what had been in his heart and thoughts, his hopeless dreams, for too many years. He felt her nod, then sat back and waited for the shuttle to touch down.

"It's just another minute, Papa," he heard Carina's voice. "Then we're there."

He smiled. Carina's enthusiasm was boundless. It was as if he was getting to know her all over again. She had been such a reserved child, except when she was staying with Sekaya for vacations and weekends. Then the children were out most of the time exploring Dorvan V's nooks and crannies as well as steal his shuttle to travel to neighbouring worlds and discover those places.  A giant hide-and-seek. It brought back memories of the time he found Carina hiding in his wardrobe, Carina who sat there calmly holding his rosewood box containing his most intimate, beloved, precious memories of Kathryn.

Carina and Kathryn. Hopefully Carina and Greer and Kathryn.

"We're here, Uncle," said Tomaso, turning to look at him.

Then they all prepared to disembark. And naturally, the children were out first.

******* 

The next hour or so would pass like a blur for Chakotay, an hour that would remain ingrained in his memory for as long as he lived. Every movement, every word, every peal of laughter, every question, every glance or cocking of the head to one side, or the tilting of a mouth corner was hazy, to be recalled later. Later, when again he could see every movement and hear every sound as clearly as he had heard it the first time.

The shuttle touched down perhaps a hundred metres away from the Janeway homestead, and already he could feel the air rippling with excitement, and a muted kind of reverence. Kathryn walked next to him while Tomaso and Carina walked behind them. Their chatter became background noise, not bad, just background, pleasant sounds that never disturbed. As they walked, his hand touched Kathryn's and she'd look up at him, again with a kind of apprehension, as if she were begging him to understand something or to accept something he might not like. And he had made up his mind that he would love everything about Kathryn and everything that touched her, everything that belonged to her. That was the way it had been on Voyager.

Voyager. On Voyager Kathryn had told him to wait. They hadn't known then that they'd be home within a month. She had been adamant that they not tell the crew of their feelings, their engagement, their promise of marriage. He had wanted to be open and Kathryn, bless her bleeding heart, had wanted to be captain to the last, had insisted that she see to the crew first before anything else. And for the first time then, he had come face to face with her brand of sacrifice. Because he had been involved with her on a far more instinctive and personal level, he felt left out. For the first time in his life. He had stormed off and had gone to the holodeck to sulk and drown his selfish sorrows.

Now, walking next to Kathryn he was prepared to do anything for her, to be anything, to protect, to serve and to accept that whatever befell her, became his too, to reflect upon and to support. He hadn't been there that time on Voyager to protect and support, but his new-found joy in being with her had triggered the goodness in his very foundations - the need to be with her no matter what happened.

So they walked. When they were about thirty metres away from a giant oak tree with a swing, there was a flurry of movement, and like a speedy blur a child ran towards Kathryn.

"Mommeee!!!!"

He watched Greer Janeway-Greaves run towards her mother. If time stood still or broke itself down into extreme slow action, Chakotay could see every particle of the child that made her way towards Kathryn

And then his heart bled.

The bleeding of it drained him, rendered him immobile; the thundering of his heartbeat were deep, haunting echoes in his brain. Then his heart stood still and he couldn't breathe.

Bleeding and breathing. What did it do to him? He felt faint. Someone - Carina? - held his hand as he stared at the running child. His free hand came up and covered his mouth, to prevent the involuntary cry that escaped him, a cry that emerged from the very depths of his soul.

Greer Janeway-Greaves.

The little girl had hair the colour of a raven's - pitch, pitch black, and eyes like her mother's. She was tanned, a natural tan that reminded him of himself and Tomaso and Sekaya and Nina and Remy. And when Greer smiled, her smile revealed the deep dimples, so much like his own

He had no idea that tears had formed in his eyes and that they burned and rolled with uncontrollable ease over his hand that still covered his mouth. He stifled a sob as his gaze remained glued to the child who had been scooped up in her mother's arms. Greer's pitch black hair was cut shoulder length with bangs in what he thought so typically childish that he stumbled as he took a step forward. Nina at the age of six looked exactly like Greer. Even Tomaso looked like Greer.

He looked like Greer.

Kathryn's words would ring in his ears over the next few hours as he met her family.

_"Greer, honey, this is Uncle Chakotay…"_

_"Hello…"_

The voice of a child. Greer looked at him with childish curiosity, held out her hand to him. She touched his face, traced the outline of his tattoo as if she knew about tattoos and Rubber Tree People. His eyes closed as she ran a small hand over his hair, hair he hadn't bothered to cut in a long time, although he'd had time this morning to shave. Then he gazed at her again in wonder. Wonder with a heart that hurt like hell. When he touched Greer's cheek, something in him broke.

"Hello, Greer. You're very pretty…" was all he could say, all he could muster before the hazy shutters came down again and he was lost in the mist of his memories.

He heard Kathryn's words from afar, distant sounds that made sense and brought solace finally to his embattled soul. Words escaped him. He watched in a daze as Greer leaned over to him and kissed his cheek, then promptly slid out of her mother's arms and ran off again to play with the rest of the children.

Then he walked. He walked away from the crowd, away from movement, from voices, found a fallen tree stump near the stream. He sat down and stared into space, wondering if the gods were punishing him again or whether they blessed him. He felt Kathryn seat herself next to him. Through tears that resolutely remained in his eyes, he looked at her. Her hand rested on his shoulder, like a white dove of peace or the softest of butterflies.

"K-Kathryn…?" he stammered. "Greer?"

"She's yours, Chakotay," came the soft answer from Kathryn. "Soon after I returned from Venice that year, I discovered I was to have a child…"

"And Greaves?"

"I told him I couldn't marry him in the circumstances, told him of my condition. He told me he loved me enough for both of us, that he would gladly be the father of my child. And he was, Chakotay. He was a brilliant father to our child, never ever acted as if Greer didn't belong to him. He was so very proud of her.."

"I understand, you know?"

"I was praying that you would, my love," Kathryn said, leaning closer so that she rested her head against him.

"She looks like me…"

"Yes, she does. Down to the dimples. But I couldn't add another dimension to your life, Chakotay. Please understand. I wanted to tell you so badly, but decided that you had to get on with your life and repair what damage was done to your little family. If you knew about her…"

"I would have destroyed everything."

"Perhaps. Greer was a gift, Chakotay. I wanted her. I thought that I would have nothing of yours to be mine when I left Venice and then Greer came. It wasn't easy, in the beginning. It wasn't easy, and Horatio was exceptional in his support. Greer loved her father, Chakotay. She has known no other daddy. She doesn't know anything…"

That last sentence was said in a whisper when Kathryn sensed his own query.

His heart hammered. He leaned away so that he could look at her.

"I want her, Kathryn, I want you. I love you and I love Greer already. She…likes me, I think…"

"On his deathbed, Horatio remained the honourable warrior to the last. He wanted me to ask you to take care of Greer, to be the father you were meant to be…to make you happy again…"

"You married a good man, Kathryn. I - I'm glad he was there for you. I'm sorry, so sorry about everything…"

"There's something else, Chakotay…"

"What is it?"

"Perhaps, when you're in Greer's company, she’ll tell you herself. It makes her more yours now than any other blood tie."

"We'll be here a few days. I'd like to get to know my daughter."

"I'd like that too, but she needs time, Chakotay. As I said, she loved her father, the man who raised her. She's just lost him and still sometimes cries in the night. Time, okay?"

"Will you marry me, Kathryn? I love you, with every last breath of my being. I cannot function without you."

Her eyes were sad, direct.

"I need to mourn, Chakotay. Horatio was a part of my life. A good part. He was a very good man and loved me unconditionally. He loved his little girl unconditionally."

"I understand," he answered, his throat thick with emotion as he pulled her close into his arms again.

They remained there for a few more minutes until Kathryn pulled him up and they walked back to the homestead.  

He met them all - Phoebe, Blair, their children, Kathryn's mother Gretchen. They accepted him, because they wanted Kathryn to be happy again.

"We knew Greer had to be yours, Chakotay," Phoebe told him later. "Kathryn didn't want to disturb your home life again, but I can assure you that she was going to let Greer know when she was old enough."

He nodded mutely, too stunned by the turn of events, by everything that had taken place. With great surprise he saw Carina and Greer together, talking like they had known one another all their lives. Kathryn was never far from him, guiding him through the small cottage that they would occupy for a few days. There was much to be discussed, much to be done.

It was a very hot day and they had lunch outside on the lawn. The children all sat at one table while the adults occupied the other table. Carina and Celine had the smaller children under control and Tomaso was the big brother already. Chakotay gave a sigh. He'd have to let Sekaya know that Tomaso would remain on Earth and complete his schooling in San Francisco. It meant his sister was going to see very little of her eldest child. He couldn't keep his eyes off Greer. It rocked him to know that he had another daughter and his heart burst with pride. He watched then as Greer made her way to their table and came to stand next to him.

"What is it, little one?" he asked, for she had the same curious look in her eyes again that she'd had earlier.

"I dreamed…" Greer said softly.

"You did, poppet?" he asked, smiling as Greer touched his thigh. He scooped her up so that she sat on his lap. She felt small, and he had memories of days when Carina had done the same thing at that age. "What did you dream about?"

Chakotay was aware that all eyes were on them. Kathryn smiled tenderly as if she knew something he didn't; Phoebe, her husband Blair and Gretchen's were indulgent.

"I dreamed of you."

"You dreamed of me? I was in your dream?"

"And you had long, long hair and wore a hat. Like this…"  Greer spread her short arms to indicate the wide brim of the hat. He struggled to maintain his composure. His heart leapt suddenly like wild stallions galloping over sandy plains. He was not in her dream.

"Greer, did I tell you my name in your dream?" he asked.

"Uh-huh…"

"And?"

"Kolopak."

"Greer, it was my father you saw, okay?"

"Uh-huh."

Then Kathryn told Greer to join the others again. When she left, Kathryn took his hand in hers.

"The last two weeks, Chakotay, Greer has dreamed persistently, seeing Kolopak."

He couldn't speak anymore. And then right there, in the presence of the others, Chakotay blurted, "I love you, Kathryn."

Six months later he married Kathryn on the Bridge of Sighs in Venice.

 

END

 

EPILOGUE

 

Chakotay couldn't believe how quickly six months had passed since their marriage on the Bridge of Sighs. Finally he felt fulfilled and supremely happy. They had moved into a new, larger apartment which Kathryn had agreed to since she wanted to start completely fresh with him and the children.  

His sand paintings graced the walls of the lounge and small foyer. A replica of the Renaissance style painting he had done in Venice in the picture gallery of the rebuilt cathedral took pride of place over the mantelpiece. It was Carina who told Kathryn that he had done the painting himself, in the style reminiscent of Tintoretto. At the time had he lied to Kathryn, telling her that he had commissioned another artist to do the painting. He had arrived six weeks before their week-long sojourn and started work on it. During that time, he had steadfastly remained anonymous, trying not to contact Kathryn.

He loved Kathryn with his very breath. He was glad that she asked for a period of mourning, because it was important for her as well as for Greer. She wanted to marry him after three months but he had been the one who told her that he would wait for her. And it had been a good decision. He got to know Greer better and Kathryn got to know Carina better. He had taken a job at the Academy after arranging his final departure from Dorvan and Polarya. He wanted to be near Kathryn and Greer with the freedom of seeing them whenever he wished.

They had all visited Horatio's grave one day and he had silently thanked the deceased man for his faith in Kathryn and the fact that he had, as he lay dying, given his blessing on a marriage between Kathryn and Chakotay.

They consummated their union only on their wedding night and again he felt humbled by her generosity. Most nights he clung to her, shivering, afraid that she would leave, or that he hadn't given her pleasure. Then she'd smile and assure him over and over that she loved him desperately, had never stopped loving him and that he'd better get used to her being in his bed forever.

He had laughed.

It was something that still surprised Carina who would tell him that she had never heard him laugh like that.

They were a family at last. Carina had quickly taken to calling Kathryn "Mom" and he was glad that they hit it off so well. He had always thought Carina to be much like Kathryn and seeing them together was evidence of that assertion. Carina was more Kathryn's daughter than she had been Seven of Nine's. She loved Kathryn wholeheartedly and loved Greer just as much. She had known before he did himself that Greer was his child, because she had seen pictures of Greer in the home Kathryn had shared with Horatio Greaves and had seen the likeness, although at the time she hadn't told Kathryn of her suspicions.

Kathryn had decided to take the name Janeway again; Greer could make her own decision later when she felt like it. He thought that that day would not be long in coming. Greer had latched on to him as naturally as she had Horatio, the father who raised her to her fifth year

Carina had two more years of schooling while Tomaso was in his senior year now. Tomaso and Miral Paris were in the same class, something he hated because he didn't like Miral Paris. They were always fighting, arguing over silly things. Both Tomaso and Miral were on the school's Parisees Squares team, but Carina had opted for velocity. She had excellent hand-eye coordination and in that she resembled her natural mother.

Tomaso lived with them now but would soon become a cadet. He and Carina had gone to the Paris home for the weekend. Asked why Tomaso had agreed to go when he and Miral were always fighting, he had given them a sheepish grin and shrugged his shoulders. Tomaso was still as protective as ever of Carina though, even as she complained that she didn't need his protection. It all sounded too familiar to him, with Kathryn even now complaining that he wanted to do too much for her.

"I can't help it, sweetheart," he told Kathryn. "I have fifteen years to catch up.

It was a quiet evening. Greer had been all over them before dinner time, peppering them with questions and stories about her new school. That was something else. Greer had started school soon after his arrival on Earth and he had felt humbled when she asked if he could accompany her on the first day of school.

Kathryn had been extremely busy at the office and needed time to recharge. He had massaged her feet, rubbed away her niggling headache.

"Will you tuck Greer in, please?" she had asked.

He had given a sigh and told her he'd do so with pleasure.

Greer.

He loved his daughter. It had been a monumental shock the day he found out about her, and when the dust had settled, he couldn't stop looking at her.

When he and Kathryn married, she had asked plaintively, "Are you going to be my new daddy, now?"

"Yes, poppet."

"Oh. Okay."

And that had been all. He didn't resent that she still was not as spontaneous with him as he had hoped. When she told him that she had dreamed of Kolopak again, he had patiently explained to her about vision quests and dreams. She had sat opposite him, her black hair and bangs cut perfectly straight and her eyes had been wide with wonder.

But Horatio Greaves raised her, and he had raised her well. Still, he felt the odd twinge of hurt that she couldn't call him anything but Uncle Chakotay. Kathryn had told him it was too soon for her, perhaps. While Carina had had three years in which to find closure on her mother's death, Greer had only just lost her father. He didn't want to force anything and hoped that it would be spontaneous one day

He gave Kathryn a kiss on the cheek before he walked to Greer's room.

She was sitting up on the bed, her feet over the side and she looked wide awake.

"Can't you sleep, honey?"

"Will you tell me a story, please? Like you did for Carina when she was little?"

"Did Carina tell you which story she liked best?"

"Uh-huh…"

"Let me guess: it's the story of two - "

"Angry Warrior…"

Chakotay looked into Greer's eager eyes. She was smiling at him. When he indicated that she get under the blanket, she scrambled like lightning, pulling the cover right under her chin. Chakotay chuckled. Carina had done pretty much the same. He couldn't resist caressing Greer's cheek and smoothing the hair away from her face. Despite her tan, her lips were rosy. She smelled like baby too. His heart burned with love for this child.

 _"Once, there was a warrior…"_ he started, smiling again at how eager Greer looked. Her hand reached from under the cover to touch his.

The words rolled from his lips, every word remembered as he had once told it to Kathryn a lifetime ago on New Earth. By the time he came to the end of the story, Greer's eyes were beginning to droop.

"Did that really happen, Uncle Chakotay?"

Chakotay thought of his life and of Kathryn's, and how he would protect her with his life. This wasn't just a legend told to make their situation easier. It was real

"Yes, sweetheart. It really happened."

"And you were the warrior?"

"Yes."

"And Mommy was the princess?"

"Oh, yes…"

"I like that," she replied with a smile that touched the very heart strings.

"Now, go to sleep, little one. We're leaving tomorrow for Indiana, remember?"

Greer lay quiet for a few seconds. Then she held her arms to him in a sleepy gesture. He scooped her in a gentle hug.

"I love you, Greer."

"I love you too, Papa…"

 

*********************** 

 

THE VERY END

 

 


End file.
